


Bonds

by Manhattanite



Series: Matchmaker [5]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manhattanite/pseuds/Manhattanite
Summary: Part 5 of the Matchmaker SeriesTotal Shoot with OC's
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: Matchmaker [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/580873
Comments: 126
Kudos: 114





	1. How We Got Here...

It was not unusual to see an unmarked police car with lights flashing - careening through the traffic of midtown Manhattan at the height of rush hour. There was always _something_ going on in the major city that needed immediate police attention. It was only _slightly_ more unusual for the police to be rushing someone to the hospital. That sort of thing was _typically_ done by ambulances. It was very unusual for a person in dire need of medical assistance to refuse the ambulance and insist, no… _force_ … their friend to take them to the hospital instead. But this was not your typical patient.

The struggle to get through the traffic was unreal. The driver had placed the red siren light on top of his car hoping that would alert fellow drivers and pedestrians that he was urgently trying to make his way across town. The struggle inside the car was very real and the experienced veteran cop couldn’t remember a more stressful ride. Usually, when he had someone this combatant in the back seat, they were handcuffed and immobilized. He had decided it wasn’t ethical to shackle his own friend.

Especially one that was pregnant and about to give birth. 

“GIVE ME THE GODDAM DUCT TAPE!” she screamed in the throes of another jolt of labor pain. Her head would bob up and down as she alternated between pain and orders.

Fusco fumbled around to feel the tape in the seat next to him.

“If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you would be in an ambulance right now!” the aggravated driver shouted behind him.

“If you weren’t so stubborn….oooowwwweeeee!” she stopped midsentence and yelled.

“How far apart?” he said, his tone completely changed to one of concern. 

“What? How would I knooooooowww! I’m sorry! I forgot my watch today. Now, give me the goddamn duct tape!” she spat before bellowing again.

“This is not _good_! This is _not_ good! _This_ is not….,” he repeated as she screamed again and demanded the duct tape between ragged breaths. 

“You’re not thinking… You wouldn’t try to …like _stop_ it … until Root gets there?” he asked in the rear view mirror with great hesitation. He had seen his friend use the sticky substance for a number of reasons; most of them very unconventional. 

“Root will be there!” she said with great certitude because she was certain everyone had called her. And if that failed, she was also sure her wife’s all-knowing overlord would communicate with her. 

There was no doubt in Shaw’s mind – Root would not miss the birth of their second child.

* * *

(Insert screeching noise here) But wait – how did WE get here? Let’s quickly review…

The tale of how Sameen Shaw got a job with BEAR Inc. was simple enough. 

Samantha Groves was a brilliant and high profile genius who ran the company with her adoptive uncle, Harold Finch. Their company was responsible for developing high tech software and security programs. Tech genius by day, Root was an A list socialite by night. Her devoted bodyguard, John Reese, was tiring of accompanying his charge to shoe sales and dinner dates. So when his buddy on the New York Police force asked him to get his old pal a job, John Reese decided he could kill two birds with one job interview. Whatever he expected, Sameen Shaw wasn’t it and he was too uncertain to offer the job. He pushed the decision up to Harold. Finch was appalled by the woman’s lack of manners, decorum and civility. There was no way this woman could ever be responsible for guarding his niece. But then… Root met her and it was love at first sight. Shaw refused the offer and that should have been the end of it. You can’t FORCE a person to work for you, after all.

Unless of course, you taze, drug and zip tie them and then take them on an international adventure. 

It was the beginning of a beautiful, full drag out brawl, relationship. 

It was the match made in heaven as it traveled through hell and back. Not only would the star crossed lovers finally come to their senses; Shaw would find the family she had always wanted. Including Root’s penthouse chef, who Shaw decided she was keeping, even if she broke up with Root. But that was never going to happen. These two were meant to be together. 

Shaw would lose a couple of layers of her titanium exterior, but she would gain a lover and wife; a chef; a close knit group of friends, and an assistant at work who would lay down her life for Shaw – in the most annoying ways possible.

Life was good – and got even better when the couple had their first daughter, Michael. They had plenty of support by then. Shaw’s mother returned from living abroad when she knew it was safe enough to return. She didn’t come alone, either. She brought Shaw’s younger half-sister; who could not have proved to be more annoying and loving to Sameen. 

It seemed the more people in their lives, the more adventures the two women had. And a few months ago, Shaw was best woman at the double wedding of Fusco and Iris Campbell, along with her assistant, Janine and Zoe Morgan. Both sets of friends asked Sameen to be their Best Woman. And true to her nature, the minister was instructed to hurry things up when Shaw got tired of standing. 

As grateful as she was for the honor, she thanked John Reese and Joss Carter for sneaking away to Las Vegas to elope. “I couldn’t take being a Best Woman at another wedding,” she naturally assumed. Joss assured her that’s why they had decided to elope. 

Life was not only good for the happy couple as they awaited their second child, it was calm. Things were moving along smoothly. Calm and smooth were two things Sameen Shaw detested. For her, they were worse than the labor pains she was experiencing. 

This might explain why Shaw wasn’t sitting with Root at home or at the office when she was so close to her due date. In an attempt to assure that her former exciting life would kick back into gear after the birth (as if she needed to help that), Sameen told her trusted friend, Fusco that she wanted in on some undercover work his task group was organizing. 

The veteran cop laughed so hard, he spilled his coffee and nearly choked on the donut he wasn’t supposed to have. When he finally could speak, he replied; “You need help. I know a good therapist.” It was his staple response to most things, especially since marrying Shaw’s therapist; Iris Campbell. 

“I’m still not sure how I feel about that,” Shaw had commented on his marriage. “Not sure I shoulda allowed that one,” she added, believing Fusco would never have proposed if she didn’t offer her blessing. 

“Again,” he remarked; “I know someone you could talk to about that.”

* * *

Back to the car racing through traffic:

“Hail Mary…,” he started to pray out loud because the last thing he wanted was for his friend to give birth in the back of his car. 

“Are you _praying_?” she shouted at him.

“What else I’m gonna do?” he yelled back. 

He heard the ripping of the duct tape and feared what his friend was going to do with it. “Hang on,” he said as she rolled around in the back seat. He maneuvered his way through the congestion and finally pulled up outside New York Hospital. 

“It took you long enough!” Sameen complained because she had been unprepared for just how painful the labor pains were. Shaw always used sarcasm to deal with anything uncomfortable. 

“What about Root?” he worried as he rushed around to the back seat, only to find his friend already out and walking, bent over, to the ER entrance. 

“I told you! She’ll be here,” Shaw yelled. 

If it weren’t for the triage of three gunshot wounds; one knife stabbing; two heart attack victims, and a patient suffering from delusions who had brandished a knife and was holding the staff at bay; maybe someone would have noticed the very pregnant woman entering the hospital. 

“Gimme that!” she yelled and ripped a saline solution bag out of an orderly’s hand. With skilled maneuvers, the woman pierced her own vein and began the IV drip she knew she needed. She pulled the duct tape from her shirt and secured the intravenous line. “Okay, okay,” she said and finally sat down, holding onto the pole that held the IV bag. 

“Now what?!” Fusco asked, looking around to see no hospital personnel to help.

Sameen shook her head, exhausted from having to explain everything to her friend. “Now, Fusco; we wait for Rooooooooooo,” she yelled and the good detective knew the contractions were increasing. 

He fumbled with his phone and tried to dial Root. 

“It’s okay, Lionel,” she answered the call by saying in her calmest voice. “I’m on my way.”

For the first time, he finally took a deep breath. “Okay, okay,” he said more to himself than Sameen. “Root’s coming. She’ll be here soon.”

He sat down next to his friend. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me how painful this was?” she shouted at him. It was against Sameen Shaw’s code of conduct to ever give into pain or even express it. 

Fusco looked up and saw Joss Carter approaching. “Oh God! My prayers have been answered!” he said, rushing towards her and pulling her towards Shaw.

“What are you two? Oh, it’s time, I see,” Joss said and only momentarily looked at the gray duct tape on her arm. “Are you going to let a doctor help?” she asked Sameen. 

“Maybe,” Shaw answered truthfully, having giving thought to whether or not she could talk Fusco through it. She looked up at her friend as if evaluating his skill set.

“No!” Fusco said, when he saw that look. “NO!” he repeated. “Carter, no!” he pleaded.

“Don’t worry,” Joss assured him. “We’ll get you help,” she said and went off to get someone. 

Sameen could tell by the shortened periods between intense pain that she was not in control. “Where’s Root?” she more pleaded than asked her friends.

On cue, the ER doors whooshed open and there stood the only person in the world Shaw wanted and needed. 

Shaw looked up long enough to see her wife’s signature bad wink at the camera in the ceiling. Sameen shook her head, aware that the Machine was involved in getting Root there in time.

The Machine had not only alerted Root of her wife’s impending delivery; she had calculated the best route; rerouted traffic; called in additional staff at the hospital to handle the influx of injuries; authorized the transfer of the patient in the private room that would best suit the couple’s needs; and alerted the entourage of family and friends that would want to be there. 

“I’m here, baby,” Root said, kneeling down in front of her wife and caressing her face. 

“I knew you would make it,” Shaw smiled. 

“Let’s go,” Root said, helping her wife to her feet and looking down the hallway as the orderly, under strict orders that appeared on his hospital device, brought the wheelchair. 

“Hell no!” Shaw said, deeming such a device as an admission of defeat. 

“Please,” Root said, touching her wife’s arm. “For me.”

It took another few seconds as Shaw considered her options. “Fine!” she said but her unhappiness with that choice was palpable. 

Root wheeled her wife to the elevator and took her to the floor upstairs where their obstetrician and staff were waiting. 

“Did this yourself?” she asked, noting the duct tape on her arm.

They helped Shaw undress but only when Root held onto her hands and talked to her. They prepped her and got ready for the delivery. 

“Root?” Shaw said, between gasps of pain. 

“I’m right here, sweetie,” Root assured Sameen by stroking her face. 

“Why didn’t you … JESUS! Root!” Shaw yelled, caught off guard by the intensity of the pain. 

“Stop fighting it, sweetie,” Root said, aware that some of the problem was her wife’s struggle to not express it. “Our daughter is ready,” she whispered. 

It wasn’t the suggestion that made Sameen relax a little; it was Root’s voice and face that always calmed Sameen. 

Shaw still experienced the pain of childbirth, but everything seemed more bearable now that Root was there. 

Finally following the directions of the doctor and under Root’s guidance and assurances, Sameen gave birth to a healthy 7 pound 7 ounce girl. The doctor placed the newborn on Sameen’s chest as tears of joy ran down Shaw’s face and Root’s. 

“She’s beautiful,” they both agreed of Michael’s sibling. 

“You were wonderful,” Root cooed as she glanced down at her wife. 

“I was, right?” Shaw said, proud that she had come through that ordeal with flying colors. 


	2. When Three Might Not Be a Crowd

The only one who looked more exhausted than the mother who just gave birth was Fusco, who collapsed in a chair in the waiting room. By this time, the entourage of family and friends had arrived. Shaw’s Iranian mother, Azar, rushed in to see her daughter and new granddaughter. She brought their first child, Michael, into see her new sister. While everyone else waited their turn, the friends focused their attention on poor Fusco. 

“You okay there, partner?” Joss Carter asked. She handed him a couple of tissues and a cold bottle of water. 

“It’s been a _long_ nine months,” said the man who felt like he had just gotten off the longest work shift of his life. “I mean, I didn’t even go with Lee’s mom to her obstetrician visits,” he reminisced. 

“Yes, but then, your ex-wife’s doctor didn’t require that a police escort be guaranteed or she would not take them as patients. 

“Right,” Lionel said, nodding his head.

* * *

Fusco was the best friend a girl could have. He had secretly worried that things would change when Shaw got pregnant and he was married. His new wife, Iris Campbell, had spent many a month as Sameen’s therapist. She knew _exactly_ what kind of relationship these two shared. Both unable to express their true feelings; it often came out in sarcastic put downs or feigned dismissiveness. Yet, it didn’t take a PhD in psychology to see that these two people were deeply devoted to each other. So, when Root became overly protective of her wife in the doctor’s office, it was strongly suggested that they bring a mediator – someone who could talk sense into both of them. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you,” was how Root practically introduced herself to the doctor. 

“Mrs. Groves-Shaw; I am not personally responsible for any pain that the birthing process will cause. You’ve been through a delivery yourself. Surely you remember that the pain was not because of the doctor,” the medical woman proposed. 

“Actually, I didn’t feel anything,” Root all but cooed when she looked at the face that distracted her so much, she hadn’t experienced anything more than a cramp. 

But it was Sameen’s announcement that she was more than capable of delivering the baby herself that caused the doctor to require a sensible adult to accompany them. 

“You; me; Root; next Thursday at 10 AM,” was how Sameen asked Fusco to be their pregnancy mediator. 

“You want me to be… your _coach_?” Fusco asked and Joss swore he pushed his chest out so far that buttons would pop off his shirt. 

Shaw looked at him quizzically. “No! I need someone with a gun in case we have to break up Root and this doctor,” she explained as if it should be obvious. 

“I wouldn’t be you for all the Ghirardelli chocolate in the world,” Joss shared.

* * *

And so several months after, and several visits that totally screwed up his work and social life schedules, Lionel finally took his first deep breath. 

In fact, there was a collective sigh among the group. 

All except for Shaw’s assistant, Janine. 

The woman had gone on an incredible honeymoon in Bali, but as soon as she was back, her entire focus returned to her boss. Her wife, Zoe Morgan, also accepted the obsession her partner seemed to have with Sameen Shaw. And the more Shaw tried to undo it, the tighter the grip became. Zoe and Shaw had a healthy competitive relationship where one was always trying to outsmart the other. But Zoe did think she was giving Shaw good advice when she told her not to fight the overt attempts to be taken care of her by Janine. “You want me to _encourage_ it?” Shaw asked and Zoe explained that maybe if Sameen expected it, it would take some of the intensity away. Shaw gave in and the whole thing backfired so badly, Sameen swore her revenge on Zoe Morgan. She was quickly chastised and made to do an hour session of meditation with Janine because … _negative vibes are bad for the baby_. 

It was in sitting across from her that Shaw remarked the woman didn’t appear to have a tan. “You were in Bali? And didn’t get any sun?” Shaw remarked.

“I don’t like to be nude on a beach, Shaw. Sand gets in really personal….,” Janine was sharing when Shaw put her fingers in her ears and sang – “la la la la la la” loudly.

* * *

Ayala, Shaw’s Israeli born sister, who was trained in her home land’s army, arrived with her fiancée, Martine Rousseau. Both had proved to adoring, over indulgent aunts to Michael. If the adage … opposites attract… could be embodied by two people; it was these two. Ayala was effusive and hyper; Martine conveyed most of her feelings in monosyllabic expressions. But they were head over heels in love. On more than one occasion, Shaw turned to her good friend, Martine and simply asked: “Why?”

Reese was there and appeared to be the most uncomfortable by the whole process. Like Fusco, he struggled with how to handle the new mother. Shaw was – _one of the guys_ – and that suited them all fine. Now that she actually gave birth, though, it really changed things. 

“How is she?” John asked Fusco.

“Good, she’s you know, good,” Lionel answered.

“Good,” Reese replied, satisfied with that summary.

* * *

When the friends finally were allowed in, the room filled with ooo’s and ahh’s over the new adorable baby. “She’s so fair!” remarked Ayala because she always said what she was thinking. 

Not one to miss an opportunity to brag, Shaw simply announced to Reese: “I make my own people now.”

As usual, John had no comeback for Shaw’s quips. 

The doctor begged Root to ask the crowd to disperse because of the noise. Root simply touched them by the elbows as she gently guided them out. The only one who took more prying was Janine, who had naturally… or unnaturally…. latched onto the object of her affections. “Now, Shaw; we will get you a more comfortable chair and I think the lactation room will be all set for you!”

“The what?” Shaw asked in horror that this was openly being advertised.

“You know,” Janine said, before her wife could step in to save her life, “… for expressing your milk.” The assistant motioned her hands around her breast.

“I know that it means!” Shaw said as Zoe pulled her wife behind her. “Geez, Shaw; two hours post-delivery and you still look better than most.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” Shaw said waiting for the punch line.

“You know there were three gunshots in the ER with you, right?” Morgan delivered on cue. 

“I owe you… still,” Shaw reminded her.

And then, in case there was any doubt, Root announced that her wife had to rest and no one was to antagonize her.

“GRRRRR!” came the tiniest voice in the room. 

“Now her, I’m afraid of,” Zoe admitted of young Michael.

* * *

Satisfied that everyone was gone, Michael bent over and kissed her baby sister. 

“Mine” Michael announced, smiling at her sister. 

“Hmm, she’s so like you,” Shaw smiled at Root. 

But in fact, everyone knew that while Michael had a balance of both parents features - Shaw’s dark hair, Root’s fairer skin, she was all Shaw in spirit. She was now 2 years old and her favorite pastime seemed to be bossing everyone around. Bear, the Groves-Shaw beloved dog and Shadow, the mother of the litter of pups the group now shared, often hid because they tired of being bossed around. 

But Root was noticing the trinity effect. Michael seemed to share an uncanny knack of communicating directly with Bear… and more concerning, with the Machine. Root often found full blown messages on her laptop – an apparent joint attempt by Bear and the Machine to interpret Michael’s deepest desires. 

‘ _Michael does not like soy milk and refuses to drink it_ ,’ came one such message. 

One look from the computer to her daughter – who suddenly hugged Bear and smiled angelically, confirmed for Root something was definitely going on. 

Definitely. 

Root looked directly at Bear. “Under no circumstances are you to allow her on Amazon,” she warned. 


	3. Teamwork, But Who's on the Team?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving a name to Shoot's offspring is NOT easy. I've spent a lot of time consulting the internet and dear friends on their thoughts. Aidyl - my fellow writer - was spot on for the derivation of the first name. And QLB - who was so resourceful in Michael's middle name, gave me one of the best ideas for Fusco's bet!  
> I finally found a 'plausible' middle name - see if you agree. It does NOT flow easily, I admit but it does have (I hope) some significance.  
> As always, thank YOU for reading along and for your comments. I appreciate them all.  
> Cheers.

By the time Shaw was ready to leave the hospital; a time determined by the patient, not the doctor, there was the issue of the baby’s name. Michael’s naming had taken the _full_ limit of sixty days until the mothers were finally satisfied with it. Shaw insisted the child have a say and it was on a walk in the gardens uptown that the young offspring smiled up at a statue of St. Michael. It wasn’t so much a religious connection, but rather that Shaw believed, and soon convinced Root, that the baby wanted that name. Her middle name was _Artan_ , which was Gaelic for ‘Little Bear’, which struck the mothers as a perfect middle name. 

While Michael may or may not have been aware of how her smile that day resulted in her receiving her name, she wasn’t going to let her sister have to wait that long. She had already shouted her concerns to Bear who barked his translation to the Machine. Pages of names with pictures scrolled across the large monitor where Bear and Michael sat. It took a while, but finally Michael shouted one of her favorite words. “STOP!” 

There was the name _worthy_ of her little sister. 

Michael had her sister’s name chosen even before she was born.

* * *

As the mothers readied the newborn to leave the hospital that day, the discharge nurse came in to ask if they had chosen her name. 

“We, uhm…,” Shaw began and hesitated because telling people that you wanted your children to choose their own names had been met with some skepticism. 

“We’re going to need a little time on that,” Root answered.

“Thought it was going to be a boy?” the nurse mused because that was the usual explanation. She was unaware of the couple’s gender neutral policy.

“There was _zero_ chance of that,” Root smiled back because the newest technology had made sure Root and Shaw’s heirs were theirs alone. 

Michael was busy watching Shaw swaddle her sister up tightly. She uttered something, but Shaw was too busy to respond. She tried to get Root’s attention, but she was packing the bag. 

“Well, you have some time,” the nurse said and was about to leave when Michael screamed: “MOMMA!”

The baby jumped, but not as noticeably as the parents did.

“This is…,” Michael whispered and gently patted the baby’s head, “…this is _Gabrielle_.”

Shaw looked at Root at the very same moment Root was looking at her. “What sweetie?” Root said, leaning into her daughter who was sitting on the bed next to the baby. 

“Ga-bri-elle,” Michael repeated again, this time more slowly. 

“I think we might want to ….,” Shaw was saying softly, but was about to be shut down.

“I am Michael,” the older sibling explained because the adults were … apparently… not getting it. “This is…. Gabrielle!” The toddler looked at everybody; her expression clearing reading – _how could this be any clearer?_

“Seems to me she’s very determined,” the nurse concurred, thinking it must have been a name the parents were already considering.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Shaw said without thinking. 

“So, Gabrielle?” the nurse asked.

The parents looked at one another for confirmation. Shaw thought it over. “I like it.” “I do, too,” Root said and then answered the nurse that it was indeed the name.

The nurse began to write it down. “Ha,” she chuckled softly. “This one is Michael, and the new one is Gabrielle. Sounds like ‘ _Gabriel_ ’. Like the angles, you know?” she said, actually connecting the dots for Root and Shaw.

“Oh, God,” Shaw said slowly, looking at Michael to see if that theory had any credence. She was met with the most angelic smile. 

“Now, does Gabrielle have a middle name…?” the nurse asked thinking this was the longest time she had spent on procuring a child’s name. 

“Middle name?” Root said, because they were still dealing with her first. 

“Oh brother,” the nurse sighed and looked past Root at the child who seemed to be in the know. “You don’t happen to know if she has a middle name, do you, sweetie?”

“Not _sweetie_ ; Michael,” Michael corrected the woman. 

“Sorry, Michael,” the woman had to smile. “Do you…?”

Without realizing it, both Shaw and Root turned their attention to their first born. The nurse saw her put her little index finger to her chin; her mothers saw her glance up at the camera right outside the door in the hallway. “Look, Mommy,” Michael said and pointed to Root’s phone. 

The nurse had no idea what was going on, but knew something was wrong with this process. “Middle name?” she repeated.

“Julia,” Root said, more to her wife than to answer.

“Gabrielle Julia,” the nurse wrote down and hurried outside before anyone changed their minds.

“Julia?” Shaw said, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Does that flow?"

“Gabrielle Julia,” Michael said softly to her sister. 

“It doesn’t exactly flow…,” Shaw was whispering.

“She likes it,” Michael announced as if she and her sister had just discussed it.

“Youknowwearelettingatwoyearoldtakechargeofthis,” Shaw said out of the side of her mouth. 

“It was... my mother’s name,” Root said slowly, as if it just dawned on her.

“Oh,” Shaw said, unaware of the significance of the name. “It’s… nice,” she said, to recoup. 

The smile on Root’s face disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Yes,” she said and wanted to believe that somehow… somehow… her daughter and the Machine had scoured family names and come up with that. But Root also knew something else. ‘ _Julia_ ’ … was also the name of a powerful programming code. 

That had to be a coincidence.

* * *

The couple gathered their little family and made their way back to the penthouse home. 

“Oh, God, I can smell steak,” Shaw said, as they entered the elevator. “I will love her forever if she’s up there making me steak,” she added, talking about their chef, Isabelle. 

“How can you smell…?” Root was asking as she pushed Michael in the carriage.

“I just know it in every fiber of my being,” Shaw replied.

And she was right.

If the couple thought their family and friends dispersed, they were about to find out that they had simply regrouped. Root and Shaw entered to a throng of people who wanted to hold the baby and play with Michael. 

“Anon,” Shaw’s mother sweetly to her and took the baby in her arms. “Welcome home,” she whispered as she kissed her new grandchild.

“Do you people have homes?” Shaw asked out loud because that’s where her thoughts automatically went. 

Joss and Iris had returned to work; Zoe remained to run interference with her wife; Fusco and Reese were already eating. 

“Well, since you’re all here,” Root said, trying to cover up her wife’s bluntness, “… we would like to announce…,” she said and looked at Michael. 

The youngster wiggled out of her Aunt Ayala’s arms and walked over to the baby. “Everyone!” she said because out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her Uncle Lionel was still eating. He stopped immediately.

“This is… Gabrielle Julia,” the tiniest voice said. 

Bear barked his approval immediately! 

“Geez!” Lionel said and wiped his mouth before reaching into this pocket to pull out a twenty dollar bill. He tossed it over to his friend, Reese.

“What did you lose on this time?” Shaw asked her friend.

Fusco quickly shoved the sandwich into his mouth. “Nuthin’!”

But John wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “He thought you’d name her – _Beatrice Lillie_.”

The fact that Fusco thought Shaw might name her daughter after her favorite deli sandwich; one that had to be made to exact specifications or she wouldn’t look at it, kind of made sense. 

“I wish I had thought of that, “ Shaw admitted openly to her wife.


	4. The Mother of All Returns

The newest member of the Groves-Shaw family soon settled into her routine of waking her mother up every two hours throughout the night. Root rose each time just to gaze upon the sweet sight of Gabrielle nursing. 

“If these things get _any_ bigger...,” Shaw commented as she laid the baby back down. Then it was Root who kept her up the rest of the night. It seemed to Sameen that Root was especially gentle and slow in her ministrations. At first, it was okay, but Shaw soon began to feel as if Root thought she _needed_ it that way. Between the spike in hormones and the lack of sleep, it wasn’t long before Sameen was uncomfortable with her wife’s tenderness. 

On more than one occasion, she attempted to tell Root that the only way for her to get better was to do what they did in the marines; made things rougher. But each time she broached the subject, Root’s eyes sparkled and she took things down _another_ notch. She obviously wasn’t getting through to her wife. 

So, someone _else_ would have to. 

The list of people Root listened to and the list of people Shaw felt comfortable talking to, was extremely short. In fact, she could think of only one person who could handle this delicate topic – delicately. The timing was perfect because her first day back at BEAR was today.

* * *

As Sameen slept soundly in Root’s arms, the preparations were underway downstairs in the kitchen and uptown where her assistant, Janine, had not slept a wink. 

Isabelle had arrived so early; she had to nudge the doorman awake. 

“Big day, Dave; big day!” she called out and startled him. 

“Do you need help?” he asked and was glad when she said no. “Feeding an army?”

“No, just Shaw,” she said with a lilt in her voice. She hummed all the way up in the elevator, her arms full with three canvas bags worth of food. She knew her favorite person to cook for would want a big meal her first day back. In reality, it was like any other day.

* * *

Zoe Morgan was not quite enjoying Shaw’s return. For six weeks, her wife seemed less distracted at home. She complained about being bored at work, but Zoe would pop in and take her to lunch or send a gift to the office to cheer her up. Now that her boss was returning, she was a single minded woman. 

“Black or blue?” Janine said, holding up two dresses in front of her.

“I hope not,” Zoe smiled thinking of how she was not so gently tossed up against the wall during their love making last night. “Oh, what?”

“Black _or_ blue?” Janine asked again.

“I thought you said black _and_ blue?” Zoe laughed, but her wife waved the dresses in urgency for her to choose.

“Black,” she said and her wife ran to put it on. “Because today some of us will be in mourning,” she added, turning back into her pillow. 

“WE HAVE TO GOOOOOO,” Janine said, with the excitement usually reserved for Christmas morning. 

“Give me strength,” Zoe moaned, getting up out of bed to get ready for the big day. 

Less preparation was made for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade than were made for Shaw’s return.

* * *

“It’s just _maternity_ leave,” Reese said, and it had taken some practice to even call it that. Joss had reminded him that calling it – _out on a mission_ – was not the correct terminology. 

“What do I call her now?” he slipped one day.

“What? Do you? Call her? Now?” his wife responded, breaking that down into four questions because she was so incredulous. 

“Yeah, I mean…,” John tried but had no clue what he meant.

“You call that woman anything other than Shaw; and I’ll be picking up the pieces that used to make up John Reese,” Carter warned him. “What do I call her now?” she muttered as she left for work that day. 

“Cover for me, will you, Carter?” was how Fusco greeted her and she was not even surprised. Armed with coffee and more donuts than even Shaw could eat, her partner was rushing out the door. 

“No, I don’t want a donut, thank you very much,” Carter mumbled to herself as her head rocked side to side.

* * *

Shaw’s mom was waiting in the kitchen when the couple came downstairs with Gabrielle. 

“MINE!” Michael shouted and insisted that her grandmother, Azar, sit next to her. 

“We are going to have to go over the rules of sharing,” Shaw whispered to Root. “Work on that, would you?” she said to her mother who was going to watch the girls. 

“They say adults can be the best models for children,” Azar said in her deep, dreamy voice that both her grandchildren loved. Four little eyes locked onto her. 

“I feel like there was a shot in there, but I’m too busy…oh, my, God!” Shaw said, diving into a stack of pancakes and bacon with home fries. 

“Just… today’s a big day,” Isabelle explained when Root looked at the large amount of food on the plate. 

“Woot,wook ad deese pacuks,” Shaw said, her mouth full of the fluffy food. “So gud!”

“Looks delicious,” Root replied with a smile and was busy staring at her wife’s syrup covered lips… and chin. “You have a little…,” she said, rubbing her thumb below Shaw’s lip. Usually a simple action like this - so close to Sameen’s mouth would be enough to send Root … and Shaw … over the edge and into the dining room. But Root quickly pulled her hand away and started to talk about something else. 

It almost… gave Sameen pause. But she was convinced now more than ever, someone had to do something.

* * *

“So, you’ll bring her around 11?” Shaw asked her mother and Azar smiled to think her daughter thought the baby was on her schedule.

“I will bring her when she wants to nurse,” the knowing grandmother smiled.

They kissed the baby, then kissed Michael and said they would see them both soon. 

“MINE!” Michael felt it necessary to remind her mothers in between bites of pancake. 

“Work on that,” Shaw reminded her mother. 

The parents were no sooner out the door when Azar, taking her daughter’s request to heart, asked her granddaughter if she could have a bit of her pancake. 

“Here, grandma,” Michael said, pleasantly and pushed a small forkful of food into her grandmother’s mouth. 

“My work here is done,” Azar winked at Isabelle.

* * *

There were drill sergeants in military platoons that barked fewer orders than Janine was that morning. She had thought enough to ask Root about the banner welcoming Sameen back, but Root gently reminded her that Shaw didn’t really like a fuss to be made.

“Right! No fuss!” Janine said, looking down at her clipboard and crossing out the banner which was at the bottom of the page. 

‘She just wants to get back… to work,” Root tried again.

“Yes, of course,” Janine agreed. “But she’ll want a little something to eat, right?”

“I’m sure,” Root smiled because she couldn’t refuse the woman who was only second to her in being thrilled at Shaw’s return. 

Janine snapped the pen back onto the clipboard and was leaving when she turned back and said: “I’ve _really_ missed her.” 

One would think it had been a full six weeks since Janine saw her boss, but that wasn’t the case. She had stopped by last night – and almost every night – just to see if there was anything Sameen needed. Shaw thanked her and said she could save herself the trip and just text. Root smiled to think how easily her wife didn’t get what was really going on. 

That was the thing about Shaw – she never caught on to how much people adored her. And the more she tried to rebuke it; the more people moved in.

* * *

“I swear, if you have a megaphone in that bag,” Zoe warned her wife because she was up much too early for this. 

“No!” Janine answered, as if that were a ridiculous idea. “Root said Shaw wouldn’t like it.“ But Zoe caught her wife looking down at her oversized bag and knew with certainty, there was one in there. 

The only reason Zoe was even there was to run interference between her overzealous wife and Shaw. She was not going to chance that she’d come home to a distraught Janine because everything didn’t go perfectly. She was to determined, in fact, that she was prepared to do something she had rarely done before.

Zoe Morgan was ready to beg Shaw to go along if she had to.

And when she saw her wife bark orders at one of the workers that the balloons had to drop at the exact moment she gave him the signal, Zoe knew she might want to start that graveling in the lobby. 


	5. Shaw Returns With a Bang

Even Zoe knew that the best person to make Shaw’s return to work go as smoothly as possible, was Root. She texted her and simply asked that she warn Shaw that people were excited to see her return. 

“Sweetie,” Root said, touching Sameen’s leg as she drove to work that morning. “You know people have _really_ missed you.”

“Yeah?” Shaw said, half listening because she was certain the guy next to her was trying to cut her off. “Come _any_ closer, buddy, and I swear…,” she swore, jerking the wheel when he crossed into her lane. “You do _NOT_ want to test me today,” she yelled.

“Hmm,” Root said, wondering how she could calm her before arriving. “You know, they’ll probably want to demonstrate how glad they are by…,” she tried, but her wife was inching closer to the SUV next to her. 

“I will get _out_ of this car,” she barked across the closed windows. “Watch this,” Shaw grinned and swerved around a taxi and got in front of both the cab and the offending driver. “Sucka!” she said, proud of her driving prowess. “What?” she finally asked Root.

By this time, they were pulling into the BEAR parking lot. 

“Just remember, everyone will be excited to see you,” Root tried to sum up.

“Yeah, yeah; I’ll act surprised, if that’s what you mean,” Shaw said as they went to the elevator. “ _Oh, wow_!” she mocked, “… _flowers_? _Thanks_!” she laughed, and Root laughed. “But I swear, Root; if that woman changed my office, I will personally rip the cabinets out and put them back,” said the woman who didn’t like anything changed in her cubicle office.

* * *

Zoe was standing next to her wife, Janine, when she heard it. “Bluebird, bluebird; this is Yellow Canary; the Eagle is in the cage and approaching your floor,” came the voice over the device Janine held. 

“Blue what? Yellow who? The what is where?” Zoe asked incredulously. “Fusco?” she called out for help, but could see the man rushing to hide. “Am I the only sane…?” she was asking when her wife jerked hard on her arm and pulled her down in the chair. 

“Victor?” Janine whispered into the phone and told him to release the balloons on her say so. 

The only one standing was Reese, at the end of the hallway. He looked at the high ceiling and noticed the balloons suspended in a net. He also saw the halogen lights and considered for a moment that they may not be a good combination. In fact, he was busy wondering what would happen…. When it did.

The static electricity in the balloons discharged next to one of the lights – causing a chain reaction. Just as Shaw and Root departed the elevator.

Shaw was expecting a group of people to yell – _Surprise_! – and flowers. 

What she got instead was a series of explosive pops and glass breaking and people screaming. 

She naturally assumed they were under attack. 

She pushed Root into a cubicle and down on the floor. Now, crouching over her wife, Shaw drew her gun and aimed it at where she heard shots. 

Now, balloons were drifting down, obstructing her line of sight. “Gezzus!” Shaw said, busy looking around the partition wall trying to find the intruder. 

“God, I love it when you’re in protective mode,” Root all but cooed from beneath her wife; caught between her outstretched legs. “God,” Root said putting both her hands up to feel the steel rod sensation of Shaw’s thigh. “I want you to wrap those legs…,” Root was off fantasizing. 

“Root!” Shaw chastised her wife for her timing. “Could you hold up on that thought until …”

“It’s okay everybody,” John called out from the end of the hallway – having witnessed what he expected _would_ happen – happen. “It’s just the balloons and the light bulbs,” he assured them. 

“What the fff…,” Shaw spat and jumped back. 

It was one thing to be caught up in the crowd’s misinterpretation of the event; it was another thing entirely for John Reese to be the only one who didn’t overreact. “Oh! I will never hear the end of this!” Shaw spat. 

But Reese moved down the aisle and instead of passing a snide remark that would jab her; he extended his hand to help her stand up and said – “Could happen to anyone, Shaw.”

John’s words were sincere and there wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in it. Which explains why Shaw wasn’t back to work for five minutes and was furious.

“Are _you_ … are you _telling_ me? Are you _saying_ that _I_ reacted like _everyone_ else?” she said, unable to get it out in one sentence. 

“No!” John said, unsure of what he had done. “No one else pulled their gun,” he explained and didn’t help. 

“I’m gonna keep my weapon loaded today, Root,” she said, pulling her wife up who had decided she liked the view where she was.

“Of course, Sweetie,” Root said, her face flushed from the wife’s expressive demonstration of protectiveness. 

John was almost stuttering because he had no idea what was going on when Janine saved him.   
“OH MY GOD!” she yelled and rushed down at her boss. “You’re here!” Balloons floated upward as the woman made her way down the aisle. 

“Please don’t shoot her,” Zoe silently prayed. 

“The balloons were my idea! Do you like them?” Janine asked and Shaw marveled at how this woman could ask such a question. 

Shaw heard the slightest clearing of Root’s throat – her cue that she was expecting Shaw to be civil.

“Oh, _very_ much!” Shaw tried and it still sounded sarcastic. 

But Janine was beyond thrilled that her boss was back and never picked up on it. 

She pulled Sameen to see her newly decorated office. “Just let me show you…,” she said, pulling the woman who had just returned her weapon to its holder. “You will love this chair…”

“I brought donuts,” Fusco said as she was being hauled past him. He opened the box to show her.

“Fusco! There are three missing!” Shaw said of the empty spaces. 

“You took forever to get here,” Fusco said defensively. 

Sameen waved to people who called out to her as Janine continued to drag her into the doorway of her cubicle.

“Look!” the assistant said and pointed to the walls and chair. By this time, Zoe Morgan had made her way through the crowd. 

Sameen stopped in her tracks and looked around at the posters of serene settings and waterfalls. There were the distinct soft sounds of birds and rain falling from a Bose speaker on her desk. And her old chair had been replaced with one that seemed to be made out of clouds. 

“Try it!” Janine insisted and pulled Shaw into the new chair. 

Fusco let out a laugh when he saw his friend sink into the billowy cushion. “Geez, Shaw; you look like you're sitting on a cloud!”

“Lionel!” Janine corrected him. 

“It’s …,” Root said, her light brown eyes wide as she took everything in. “Calming?” she guessed as the motif. One look at her wife’s gritted teeth told her it was too much. “Maybe a little less…,” she said, turning the speaker off.

“I read that it’s very helpful… for _things_ … if the atmosphere is calming,” Janine said proudly of her research. 

Shaw's mouth was opened when she slowly turned to look up at her. “Do I strike you as someone who wants … _calm_?” she asked earnestly. 

“Not typically, I know, Shaw; but now that you’re …you know,” Janine said and again her hand moved to her own chest. “Nursing,” she whispered, in case her boss didn’t get it. 

“Oh, God help me,” Zoe and Shaw uttered at the very same moment. 

“She really means well,” Zoe explained as she gently pushed her wife outside. 

“Do you see this?” Shaw asked Root as if to point out how ridiculous this all was. 

And in case there was any doubt, Fusco summed it up and said: “You look like you fell into a vat of marshmallows, Shaw; at a Buddhist colony.”

It was enough to propel Shaw up but not out of the chair. Root immediately ran interference and assured Sameen they would get her old chair back and the posters could be taken down. “She meant well,” she smiled at her wife as she tried to comfort her.

Shaw _hated_ that expression because her typical response would remind Root that the road to hell was paid with good intentions, but she knew that her assistant did not mean to upset her; she was being nice.

Shaw hated when people were being nice. She felt as if she never had the appropriate response. As if she reached into her bag of tricks and there was nothing in it to help her navigate people’s good intentions. 

But she had to draw the line somewhere.

“I will shoot her if there is a neon light over the room that say’s _Shaw is Nursing_ in flashing letters,” Shaw warned Root. 

“She took that down,” Fusco assured her and Shaw’s head snapped to look at Root. 

“I’ll give it the once over,” Root promised her. 

“And get my chair back!” Shaw yelled as her wife and friend left, and she struggled to get out of the soft seat. 


	6. Person Missing From the Crowd

If it weren’t for the fact that Root could see how sincere Janine was in her efforts, she would have had a crew come in and clean out every festive sign of her wife’s return. 

“Did I go… _overboard_?” the overzealous assistant asked - and everyone … including her wife, Zoe; snapped their heads as if to ask – _are you kidding_?!!

But Root was the quintessential diplomat and explained how Shaw didn’t like a fuss to be made over her. 

“Should I return the cake?” Janine asked and there in the conference room was a sheet cake that almost covered the length and width of the table.

Fusco was about to say the only thing missing on that thing was sparklers, but then he noticed them. 

“Leave the cake,” they all heard a familiar voice command from within Shaw’s cubicle. 

“She wants the cake!” Janine squealed, having gotten something right. 

“She appreciates it all, but she just wants to … get back… to work,” Root smiled and the assistant agreed, but everyone knew they were not on the same page. So, Root tried one more time. “Take your cue from her, okay?” and the woman nodded.

* * *

Root walked back into her wife to kiss what she knew would be pouting lips. “When your mother comes, do you want to come to my office?”

“You mean as opposed to the glass booth with the neon arrows that will point to me?” Shaw asked.

“She’s happy that you’re here and you know what? I am, too,” Root said, happy to be able to visit her wife any time she wanted.

“Me, too,” Shaw echoed. “I mean, about you… not… everyone.”

“I will see you soon,” Root said, kissing Shaw, who tried to act like public displays of affection were simply not her thing.

* * *

For the next half hour or so, Shaw had to stop working and wave hello to whoever came by for a piece of cake. “Welcome back, Shaw, “ seemed to be on replay until Sameen got up, summoned her assistant and told her to stand in the doorway and say: “ _Shaw said thanks. Nice to see you too_.” “No, leave that last part off.”

The only person she let through was Fusco because he was carrying _her_ piece of cake. 

“If you ask me, the donuts were better,” said the man who had sampled enough of both to make a good judgement call.

“Do you even worry about your sugar intake?” marveled his friend who shoved a big piece of cake into her own mouth. “I mean, you’re married now…,” she said, meaning surely there was someone else who pointed this out to him. 

“Yeah, the other night in bed…,” Fusco was saying in between bites and was about to share that his wife, Iris, did comment that she was pleased he was coming to the gym with her, but Shaw did not want to hear it.

Her eyes grew wide with horror. “Fusco!” she yelled and startled him. “Don’t … do not… share… not one…,” she stammered, waving her finger at him. 

“Geez, Shaw, what is it with you?” Fusco asked sincerely. 

“Just no, okay,” his friend summed it up. Shaw never wanted to hear any details of Fusco’s relationships; limited as they might have been. But now that he was married to _her_ therapist, he was prohibited from sharing _any_ details.

He looked hard at the expression on Shaw’s face. He was, after all, a pretty good detective. It took a minute, but his investigative skills pulled together a pretty good working theory. He assessed her body language and eye movement. Oh, and the fact that she threw the half eaten cake into the garbage. That was his _biggest_ clue. 

And then proving that a man with his experience could _still_ jump from the frying pan into the fire in a single bound; he leaned closer and said: “You having trouble thinking about your therapist in bed?”

Giving Fusco a hard time about anything had been a favorite hobby of Shaw’s; one that he shared with her. But since he married a woman she not so secretly liked and admired; made this topic off limits in her mind. She had trouble explaining that to Lionel. 

Shaw closed her eyes; her hand instinctively reaching for her gun because that’s what she did when in a threatening situation ( _see note about balloons_ ). “Fusco, I swear to God, I will shoot you on my first day back!”

“What?” he asked, unaware of how his question sounded. “Are you… like…?” and he was trying to describe post pregnancy but his hand motions were all over the place. 

“That’s it!” Shaw yelled and got up out of the puffy chair without any issue.

“GEEZ! I’m going; I’m going,” he said, putting his hands out and backing out of her office. “Good luck,” he whispered to Janine.

“I HEARD THAT!” Shaw let him know. She fell back into the chair and felt as if the soft material was going to encase her, so she shot out of it.

* * *

All of this was simply further confirmation to Sameen that something happened to the lot of them while she was away. Someone must have contaminated the water supply and drugged all her coworkers and friends because not one of them was acting normal. Well, whatever constituted normal, Shaw clarified in her head.

There was only _one_ person it seemed not caught up in all of this craziness. There was only _one_ person Shaw didn’t notice stepping through balloons to say hello. _One_ person who wasn’t standing in line for a piece of cake. 

Iris Campbell. 

“That almost makes sense,” Sameen said to herself, hoping the staff psychologist was still one of the sanest people there. 

Traversing the distance from Shaw’s office down the hallway to Iris Campbell’s office proved to a challenge. There were more well-wishers; handshapes and even hugs from the bolder staff members.

“Really not a hug…,” she was explaining when the woman grabbed her close. 

“We have all missed you,” the large woman shared. 

“I wish… I could say the same,” Sameen said, but no one could hear her pressed against the woman’s chest. 

She pulled away and smiled, not meaning it, and rushed down the hallway. As soon as someone approached, she backed against the wall and yelled – “Yeah, I know; glad to see me. Thanks!” and hurried along. 

Shaw didn’t know it, but that very morning, as Fusco showered and dressed early to make sure he was there to greet his friend, his wife was also heading into work early. When they kissed goodbye, Fusco headed for coffee and donuts before signing into work; Iris headed straight to her office. “ _Just in case_ ,” she thought as she rearranged the pillows on her couch and filled the candy bowl. She hadn’t done that in weeks because Shaw was the only person who ever took anything from it. And even when she didn’t, she complained if the dish was empty. “ _What kind of person doesn’t have a candy dish_?” she complained when she first visited Iris’ office. And ever since then, Iris made sure to have the chocolate there. Just in case Shaw decided to come in. 

Iris’ receptionist was one of the people still enjoying the cake, so there was no one to announce her arrival to Iris. Shaw simply swung open the door – as if there were little chance there would be anyone else in the therapist’s office. The fact that Iris refused to schedule any for that day was quite telling – as if she _hoped_ Shaw would stop by. And now she was standing there in the opened doorway. 

“What the _hell_ happened to all of them while I was gone?” she asked Iris as she closed the door behind her.

“Hello, Sameen,” Iris said, in a different tone than she did when she and Fusco stopped by to see the new baby. 

“Something happened,” Shaw continued as she walked in, pointing to the closed door, “…because they’re more crazy than usual. Couldn’t you have…?” Sameen said, waving her finger at the air now…,” …found a cure or at least a pill to take them down a notch?”

The only reason Iris curtailed the broad smile at her favorite client’s entrance was to make sure Shaw knew she was taking her complaint seriously. She rose from her chair. “What are they doing?” she asked earnestly, although from the water cooler talk, she had a pretty good idea of the celebratory things that were going on outside.

“I had kind of thought with all the free time you had…,” Shaw began and sat, legs spread, on the couch, “… that you’d have cured one or two or a dozen by now.” 

And Iris was right; Shaw was _dead_ serious. 


	7. Sounding the Alarm

Iris took her usual seat in the chair that was facing the couch where her client sat practically twitching in the seat.

“How have you been?” Iris asked, the notepad and pen sitting silently on the table next to her. She never knew how long these sessions with Sameen would be. 

“I have been…,” Shaw began, but got up and started to walk around the perimeter of the room, as if looking for something. “….Fine,” she completed her thought. Her hand was sweeping under the bottom of the shelves that lined one wall of the psychologist’s office.

“Looking for… something?” Iris had to ask and it almost startled Shaw back to the present. 

It seemed an automatic behavior to sweep a room for any listening or visual devices. But it was something she had never thought to do before in this room.

“Can’t be too careful,” Shaw smiled briefly and sat back down, legs spread wide, on the couch. “I’m fine.”

“Do you feel you need to be careful?” Iris asked from the words Sameen just chose.

Shaw stared for a minute, eyes narrowed on the woman who sat across from her. _It had been months since she came into Iris in a professional manner. Believing there was little else to work on, she announced she felt cured – or as cured as anyone as screwed up as she was – and told Fusco he should propose marriage because Iris was going to have a lot of free time on her hands now._

Shaw’s immediate response might have been – “ _Of course I do! I have two kids now and a wife who picks the most dangerous situations to get turned on by_!” but she didn’t. She remembered how these sessions went now. She’d say something; the Doc would pick out a word and give it back to her in the form of a question. Iris was bright and clever; Sameen had to give her that. 

But this wasn’t _about_ Shaw. This was about the loony bin and the crazy group of people running it on the other side of the door. 

“Haha,” Sameen laughed softly and leaned forward, her arms resting on her legs, her hands folded in front of her. “Almost, Doc,” she smiled but Iris kept staring. “This isn’t about me; this is about all those people out there. It’s about how I don’t ever see any of them in here getting the help they so desperately need.” Shaw sat back after having summed up the issue brilliantly. Her smug expression, at having escaped that subtle attempt by Iris to get her to talk, was not lost on the therapist.

“What _exactly_ , do you feel their issue is?” Iris asked, undaunted by the cat and mouse game Sameen enjoyed. 

Sameen thought it over. That was a fair question, she thought. She would answer it. 

“Well, for one thing; they’re acting like I’m back from the war; not maternity leave. Second, it’s not like I haven’t seen some of them. I mean, they’re at the house ALL the time! No offense, Doc,” Shaw was quick to add because she was one of the few people who didn’t show up without an invite. She meant Fusco. 

“And thirdly…,” Sameen continued, “… they’re _hugging_ me. Touching me, like they’ve completely forgotten the rules!”

Shaw was so sincere about her complaints that Iris had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “I see,” she said, clearing her throat to swallow the smile.

“Do you think they see you differently?” Iris asked, bringing it back to Shaw in spite of her protests.

Sameen felt the shift, but hesitated. Something she never did anywhere outside of this room. Dark eyes flashed as she tried to decide if she wanted to answer a question about her. But her lips were already moving.

“Yes! That’s part of it. I mean, part of their weirdness, Doc. Janine keeps pointing to my breasts; they ordered posters of … of… waterfalls and green shit,” Shaw started to explain. “And I’m pretty sure there’s a glass booth out there somewhere where people can watch me nurse!” she exaggerated. Now that she said that out loud, it sounded crazy. “Okay, maybe not,” Shaw backpedaled. “But there’s a new chair that I could sink into and no one would find me for days. And Reese??” she said, remembering the most offensive thing that morning. 

“Reese?” Iris said, slowing grabbing the pad and pen and putting it nonchalantly on her lap. 

“Reese…!” Shaw said again, almost unable to get the words out because they upset her so much. “He had the nerve to suggest that when I pulled my gun out this morning to shoot the balloons; which in my defense I didn’t know were balloons, that I did what ANYONE ELSE would have done!!” she said, her hands outstretched to indicate how ridiculous that was. It was the slightly confused look on Iris’ face that made Sameen repeat: “ANY-ONE-ELSE. He said those words.” 

Iris cleared her throat, shifted in her seat and said: “You’re not like anyone else.” It wasn’t even a question. It was the confirmation that Shaw was looking for.

“Thank you. So, you might want to put that next to his name,” Shaw said, waving at the therapist to start writing. 

“You want me to speak to him about lumping you in with everyone else?” Iris asked, just to be sure.

“It’s a sign, Doc. Something is going on with them,” Shaw reiterated.

“Was John trying to _reassure_ you?” Iris accurately deduced.

“Yes! Like I need his reassurance? Like, what is up with that?” Shaw spat out. “He would never do that before.”

“Before?” Iris said, slowly peeling back the layers of why Sameen was there.

“Before I had the baby,” Shaw said, as patiently as she could. “It’s like they’re all tiptoeing around, making a fuss. Geez, if Janine mentions expressing my milk one more time, I’ll explode!”

Iris wasn’t expecting that, so she pursed her lips to bite them hard. “Everyone seems focused on taking care of you.”

“Right?” Shaw agreed. “It’s the worst. Except…,” and she hesitated. She was still trying to work out how to talk about Fusco in there. 

“Except…?” Iris prompted, having a good idea. 

Shaw drew a deep breath. She couldn’t go in there and not complain about the biggest pain in her ass. Yet, she had to do it in such a way that the _pain-in-the-ass’_ wife didn’t take offense.

“I can say whatever I want in here, right, Doc?” Shaw double checked.

“I prefer it that way,” Iris confirmed.

“Even if it’s about someone we _both_ know… very well, right?” Shaw clarified.

“Yes,” Iris smiled because she knew where this was going. “Absolutely.” 

“Well, one of my friends … let’s call him…,” Shaw attempted and Iris saved her by suggesting; “Fusco?” “Yeah, that’ll work. He’s the same pain in the ass that he always is; so I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Maybe everyone has their own way of expressing their concern for you,” Iris proposed.

“That’s the thing, Doc. I don’t want their concern. There’s nothing to be concerned about. Even my friend should be focused on how many donuts and cake he ate this morning,” Shaw ranted and then looked right at Iris. “Don’t write that down, Doc,” she requested. 

“I won’t,” Iris assured her although she did make a mental note. 

“And Root!” Shaw said, finally getting to the heart of the matter because Root was always the real reason Shaw was upset. 

“How is Root expressing her concern?” the therapist asked. 

“Oh, crap,” Shaw sighed realizing she was already down the rabbit hole of answering the questions. “I’m already here,” she sighed. “Okay look, when Root and I are making… being… together,” Shaw began and she wondered why the therapist didn’t have bottles of water available; “… I like it …, “ and she searched for a more polite term for rough as hell. 

“Physical?” Iris offered.

Shaw frowned as she considered if that word summed up what she meant. It did not.

“Doc, Root and me are like a four alarm fire at an oil refinery,” she spelled out. 

Iris took in those adjectives and that visual that Shaw painted. She wasn’t at all surprised by it. 

“And Root is being…?”

“Gentle. Root is. With me!” Shaw explained. 

“What do you think Root … and everyone else … are trying to do?” Iris asked.

“Drive me insane, Doc. This is where you come in. Get Reese to knock it off; tell Fusco not to ever mention you two in bed; and Janine… well that’s a few sessions right there.”

“I’m sorry?” Iris blurted out over that middle statement. 

“Janine,” Shaw repeated. “She’s gonna take some serious talking off the ledge, Doc.”

Iris decided she’d think about that middle statement for a while before going back to it. 

“And Root?” Iris came back to. “My sense is that you have always been able to tell Root exactly what you want.”

“Yeah,” Shaw admitted. 

And it did seem fair. Iris was going to straighten out all those other people. The least Shaw could do is get Root back on track. 

“Deal,” Shaw said and got up from the couch. “Good talk.”

“Good to see you, Sameen,” Iris smiled.

* * *

While Iris wrote some notes and wondered when Shaw would be back, Sameen was outside taking care of business.

She marched past anyone who tried to welcome her back and went upstairs to her wife’s office. She pushed open the door to Root’s space and walked over to her desk where she was on the phone. 

“Hang up,” Shaw instructed her. 

“It’s oversees,” Root was trying to explain. 

“I’m about to rip your clothes off and take you on this desk, Root,” Shaw said in a low growl that make Root lose her grip on the phone. 

“I’ll … gotta go,” she said putting the phone in her desk drawer. 

“Don’t ever go easy on me again,” Shaw demanded, but Root saw the pleading in her eyes.

“Never,” Root promised as Shaw pulled her close, ripped open her blouse and pushed her back onto the desk. 

Root wasted no time in doing the same to Sameen and made sure she was rough in ever touch of Sameen’s body. She reached up and caught her wife unaware and unprepared and managed to throw her backwards onto the desk. 

“Gentle no more, Shaw,” Root said, setting every nerve ending in her wife on fire. 


	8. Getting the Help You Need

While Shaw was upstairs getting through to Root, Iris Campbell crossed paths with Reese. 

“Oh, John, I’m glad I ran into you,” Iris smiled, waiting for the coffee to finish dripping into her cup in the break room.

The man of few words smiled and nodded his head. 

“It seems we have a _misunderstanding_ I was hoping you could help me with,” Iris began.

“Shaw?” Reese immediately guessed correctly. 

Even Iris was surprised at how quickly he connected those dots. She laughed as she took her cup. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” 

“The - _everyone else -_ comment?” John kept going.

“I think she feels people are treating her differently,” Iris suggested.

“So, stop being _nice_ ,” John summed up rather quickly. 

Iris could have asked him how he felt about this; was there anything he could think of that she could do to help, but she knew John liked things wrapped up quickly. “Yes,” Iris said, in spite of how that sounded.

“Okay,” John agreed, his facial expression never changing. “On it,” he said and left. 

Iris took a sip of her coffee and smiled. They should all be that easy, she thought. Then she heard Janine’s voice and knew where her next stop would be. 

“I don’t know where she is!” Iris heard Janine’s panicked voice rise above the partition walls. 

“I bet I know,” Iris smiled into her cup and then quickly looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot. She silently chastised herself for making that remark; cleared her throat and went outside to see what the fuss was.

The cause of the panic was wrapped up in a blanket and sleeping quietly in a double stroller; her older sibling next to her. 

“Everything okay?” Iris asked, and squatted down to say hello to Michael and Gabrielle. 

“She’s mine,” Michael whispered, cupping her hands to her mouth. 

“Well, she’s very lucky,” Iris smiled and Michael decided she liked the voice on this woman who had the good sense to get on her eye level to talk to her. So many tall people talked down to her.

“Momma’s missing,” Michael said, and looked up at Janine who was calling Shaw on her cell. She shrugged her shoulders because she didn’t quite get what the big deal was. “She’ll find her,” Michael said and looked up past all of them. At first, Iris thought she meant Janine, but when she looked in the direction that the youngster was looking, it was a security camera. 

“Shaw will be back,” Iris said, gently putting her hand on Janine’s to calm her. 

“Do you think?” Janine asked sincerely, not being able to control the rushing sensation in her veins to get everything right. “That baby is here,” she stated the obvious.

“Would you… like to come talk with me… about all this?” Iris offered. 

Janine rarely answered anyone’s question when her focus was on Shaw. She remembered that Root suggested she take her cue from Sameen, but she was having a hard time doing that. “Yes,” she nodded her head. “I would.”

“One o’clock?” Iris suggested and Janine agreed, but only if Shaw didn’t need her. “One o’clock then,” Iris smiled and said goodbye. 

That settled, Janine turned her attention back to the issue at hand. “What will she need? Where… I mean?” she asked Shaw’s mother. 

“Quiet,” Azar suggested because she knew this excitement would not help her daughter or granddaughter. 

“Quiet,” Janine repeated. 

“Quiet,” Michael whispered.

* * *

Gabrielle was more than cooperative and only started to squirm as Shaw was coming off the elevator. 

“Kids are here,” Fusco said, finally deciding to get back to his other full time job. “Hey, Shaw?” he said, as she walked past him down the hallway. “Your shirts on backwards.” His distinct giggle as he left told Sameen he knew what happened.

Shaw stopped momentarily and looked down. Sure enough, the _USMC_ lettering with a lightning bolt was nowhere to be found. When she looked up, John was approaching. 

“So, is _that_ how marines are wearing their shirts these days?” Reese asked, giving Shaw the much needed dig she wanted.

“You guys are both pains in my….,” was her way of thanking them when Michael ran down the hallway to her. Shaw fell to her knees and scooped her up, putting her mouth on the toddler’s stomach and making noises. 

“Momma, stop!” Michael squealed with delight. 

“Oh, my God,” Janine said, tears almost welling in her eyes. “She’s so good with them.”

Azar smiled at the emotionally charged woman. “One o’clock,” she whispered to make sure the woman remembered the appointment.

“I gotta get a grip,” Janine admitted openly.

“Being aware is the first step in any process,” Azar encouraged her.

Shaw settled into her office as her mother followed with the baby. When Janine asked if she should remove the chair, Sameen touched her tailbone and said it was okay to leave it. 

“Root,” she said to her mother, who tilted her head and grinned. 

“Glad you two are…,” Azar began and Shaw shot her a look. 

Sameen settled into the chair and readied to nurse Gabrielle. The overhead lights in that one area of the entire floor dimmed and soft music started to play over the loudspeakers. 

“That wasn’t me, I swear!” Janine said, in case Shaw wasn’t happy with those touches.

Sameen looked over at Michael who sat on Shaw’s desk, watching her sister nurse. The slightest rise of the youngster’s eyebrows gave her the distinct impression Michael knew exactly who had made those changes. 

Shaw’s eyes shot up to look at her mother, just to see if she was aware that her first grandchild seemed to be in communication with Root’s AI overlord.

“You worry too much,” Azar answered her daughter, even though Shaw had not said a word. 


	9. Undercover Work

If there was one thing that Root excelled at in this world, it was making sure Shaw was happy. Her wife’s impromptu visit delivered the message loud and clear: Actually, the screaming was loud; Shaw’s message was barely above a whisper. But as Root refastened the snaps on her blouse that day, she knew she needed to come up with something to surprise Sameen. She tucked her blouse back in her pants and went to her computer. She missed the sound of buttons flying off her clothes during their wild dining room table love making; but, they had small children now – and buttons … _and_ broken glass… were not safe anymore. 

‘ _Not the same effect,_ ’ Shaw had lamented, picking up the melamine dish and hitting the table with it. ‘ _I miss the breakage.’_

Root considered the ways in which she could bring back some of that excitement to Shaw's life... outside the bedroom. Or in their case, off the dining room table. She snapped her fingers when an idea came to her. Nothing gave Shaw a thrill like undercover work! She summoned the man who knew all the security issues that were going on out in the world. 

“This just came in,” Reese said, pulling up an email on his phone. “Company in Boston says someone broke into their security system, stealing sensitive data. They don’t want to alert police just yet.”

“Our security program?” Root asked incredulously.

“No,” Reese almost, sort of, smiled. “But they’ll be receptive to us.”

“That’s perfect!” Root squealed.

“You want to make a sales pitch?” Reese asked thinking this would be an easy sell.

“No need,” Root said, “… I want to find out who broke into their system.”

“I don’t think they want us to solve it,” Reese assessed.

“We’re not going to tell them… yet,” Root suggested.

John wasn’t sure that Root was up to, of course. “I think they’d want us to install…”

“Shaw _needs_ this,” Root said and that was all the explanation Reese need.

“Sure,” he said, putting away any thought of talking Root out of this. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Get Fusco in on this,” Root requested. “In case we need … him.”

Reese knew that if Fusco was needed, it was because Root already considered that laws would be broken and they might need some NYPD personnel to smooth things over. 

John looked back as his boss as she clasped her hands together in excitement. “She is going to LOVE this!”

* * *

Root went to see her wife and children and to set things in motion for their trip. The grandmother leapt at the chance to babysit overnight. Shaw’s sister, Ayala, immediately volunteered to assist. Finally, it was time to tell Sameen. 

“We’re needed,” Root said as Sameen’s assistant immediately started to run down a new checklist of things that needed to be put in place for this to happen. 

“We are going? Undercover? In Boston? Overnight?” Shaw asked, her tone a mix of excitement and hesitation. “Are you making this up?”

“No, new client. Got hacked and I think it’s an inside job. We’ll pose as Human Resource consultants that are scheduled to do seminars at the company. This way, we get to see key people and we can do some snooping around,” Root laid out the preliminary plan she put together in the elevator ride down. 

“Here’s what I could find,” Reese said, and put a file down in front of Shaw with a particular sparkle in his eye that she didn’t like.

“Lurch coming?” she asked, back on track to trading barbs with her friend.

“Apparently, you need the _big_ guns,” John grinned and now Sameen was certain she didn’t like his look.

"I am the big guns," Shaw was saying when their friend reappeared.

“Okay, I got the time off,” Fusco said, plopping down in Shaw’s chair and asking if this assignment came with a food allowance. “I didn’t have time for breakfast before yous two were calling me back.”

Shaw’s mouth opened, but there were no words. She turned to look at Root for an explanation. “He’s… just in case. We can’t be delayed up there, Sweetie. The girls.”

“You’re expecting trouble?” Shaw asked, kind of hoping there would be.

“I hope so,” Root said gleefully. 

“And what kind of trouble would there be that _this_ guy would get us out of it?” Shaw pondered out loud.

“You know the Boston police don’t share the fondness the New York cops have for you, right?” Fusco asked.

“We’re undercover, Sherlock,” Shaw pointed out.

“Don’t forget to look at the file, Shaw. The best part is on page two,” John said from the doorway. 

“What is up with you? You’ve been … what can only be described as … smirking… since you brought this file!” Shaw demanded to know.

“Oh, this is good,” Fusco said, peeking in the file and closing it quickly.

“Please don’t make me shoot you while my children are still here,” Shaw pleaded sincerely. 

“Take a look, Shaw,” Fusco said and then looked back to smile at Reese who was enjoying this as much as much as he was.

Root wanted Reese to come up with a plausible way into this company. The only way he could come up with was to have Root and Shaw pose as people who were already scheduled to visit the company. And the only thing on the calendar was a Human Resource Consultants visit.

“ _Boston Human Resources Specialists_ ,” Shaw read the jobs they had. Then, she saw the name tags. “ _Judie Torres_. _Rachel Hughes_.” “I’m not either of these…,” she started, but Root explained they had to match their names that were already in the database to gain entrance.

“Time is limited,” Root explained as she looked at her name tag. “Rachel Hughes,” she introduced herself. “CEO of Boston HR Group.”

Shaw sighed and decided she had no other choice but to play along “Ju-dee Tore-ez,” Sameen said phonetically saying her new name. “Chief… _Happiness…_ Officer?” she asked as she read her title. “What the hell is that?”

It was the moment Reese and Fusco were waiting for and the detective burst out laughing so hard, he nearly fell off the chair. “You! Chief _Happiness_ Officer!” he repeated and John had to leave because he was about to actually smile… hard. 

“What the hell kind of job is that?” Shaw inquired.

“One made just for you,” Fusco spit out between gasps. 

Root shot him a look and told her wife not to pay him any attention. “It’s a real position that a lot of companies have now. It’s HR in charge of programs that help employees have a better work experience through supporting effective teamwork, encouraging growth, giving employees a voice,” Root listed as the duties. “I figure that’s where we might catch our thief!”

Fusco cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “It screams you,” he said and started the laughing again.

“You won’t make it to Boston,” Shaw promised him. 

Sameen was onboard for the overnight excursion. They would leave early in the morning, arriving before the start of the business day. This would give them ample time to size up their suspects and do some digging. 

“I’m sending you the bios of the top tier management team,” Janine said, already conducting preliminary work.

* * *

That night, as Isabelle prepared enough food for a small army; or for a road trip for Shaw; the couple went over the files. 

“Stealing information usually means someone is selling it to a competitor,” Root surmised as she and Shaw lay in bed. 

“You say the most _romantic_ things,” Shaw said dryly as she looked over the files.

“Oh, you want _romantic_ , do you?” Root said, grabbing Shaw’s phone and dropping it on the floor. 

“That’s my phone!” Shaw protested, but her voice was drowned in the kiss her wife placed on her lips. “Yeah, okay,” she conceded as her body gave over to Root. “This could be exciting,” Shaw said, her mind on the clandestine trip.

“Oh, I _promise_ you it will be!” Root said, pushing Sameen’s arms above her head and showering her in soft kisses.

“I meant the _undercover_ work,” Shaw gasped because she liked to act like Root wasn’t getting the best of her. 

“I did, too,” Root smiled, pulling Shaw down under the sheets. 


	10. The Long and Winding Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Shaw is a die hard New York Yankees baseball fan. As such, she would naturally have an animosity towards the Boston Red Sox team. I don't quite understand it myself, but it would be in character.

The children were kissed goodbye and the car was packed with food as Shaw and Root started on their drive up to Boston the next morning. The trip up from the City usually took about three and a half hours… _IF_ … the driver did the speed limit. 

Shaw loved that they were taking a sports car up and not the family SUV. While Root had a deep appreciation for technology; Shaw loved the feel of a machine with great horse power. Shifting the manual stick to race through a quiet street of Manhattan that early morning, brought a big smile to Sameen’s face. 

“I love the feel of controlling this car,” Shaw gushed, because it was rare. 

Root smiled as she took in the expression on her wife’s face. “I love it when you’re in control,” Root cooed; putting her hand on her wife’s toned thigh. “I love the _smoothness_ of your skin,” she continued, tracing a long finger up Sameen’s arm, “… and the _tightness_ of your muscles,” Root added, her hand now massaging Shaw’s upper arm, “… and the _hardness_ of your bones,” she finished and grabbed Sameen’s hip … causing the woman to careen off course momentarily.

“ROOT!” Shaw tried to admonish her wife, all the time readjusting her elevated hormone body in the leather seat. What really was happening was Shaw being totally caught off guard at how quickly her body gave itself over to Root. _THAT_ , Sameen Shaw had decided a long time ago, was not a good idea. Shaw felt the best approach for both of them would be to slowly, ease into Root’s seduction or the two of them might spontaneously combust! It was the plan Shaw believed in; even though it rarely worked. Still, she made every attempt not to convert to Root’s way for fear they would never get anything else done in their lives. Sex was good; sex often was better, but a four alarm fire in an oil refinery could eventually get one of them seriously injured. Shaw reminded herself all of this as Root continued her playful ministrations. 

“O..kay… Root?” Shaw said, her voice calmer, her tone quivering as she begged her head to focus on the road. 

“Let go of the wheel,” Root said, in such a seductive tone that for a split nanosecond, Shaw considered it.

“Root, what the fuuu…. Geezus!” Shaw gasped and now Root’s hand was gently lifting Shaw’s hand off the wheel. 

“She has it,” Root said convincingly.

“She? Has what?” Shaw said, squirming in her seat as if to squelch the tightness building inside her. 

“She… has control of the car,” Root said in her ‘ _Silly’_ tone as if Shaw would know this. 

“You gave the Machine control of _my_ car so you could … we could… fool around?” Shaw asked, half amazed; half questioning the sanity of this decision. 

“Just so I could be alone with you,” Root whispered in Shaw’s ear sending shivers down her spine. 

“This is … insane; even for you Root,” Shaw protested, but her hands lifted off the wheel as Root’s hand traversed the tautness of Shaw’s upper thigh, across her stomach until she slipped her hand under Shaw’s black pants. 

“She likes to help,” Root smiled as she leaned into the heat and caressed Sameen’s folds until Shaw’s arms shot out to hold onto the door and consol. “Are you… sure?” the driver gasped because the car was speeding along almost as fast as Root’s hand was now.

“Absolutely,” Root assured her.

* * *

“That was… nice,” the passenger who just drove her wife wild summed up. 

“God, yes, Root, but… can anyone see…?” Shaw worried now, but the clear glass windows had been transformed into tinted ones. “Did… you…?”

“Think of everything?” Root smiled victoriously. “Yes.” And she had. 

“Can I…?” Shaw said, indicating she wanted control of the car again.

“If you think you can,” Root said, gently running her finger up Shaw’s thigh. 

“Yeah,” was all Shaw could utter. 

And so the Machine returned all control of the car back to Shaw as Root planned out their day.

“You guys okay in there?” Fusco’s voice came over the Bluetooth speaking in the car. “Your windows went dark.”

“Fusco!” Shaw shouted as if he were in the back seat. “What are you - tailing me?”

“I’m going to Boston, Shaw. Like you asked. I happen to be on the same highway as you,” Fusco said, having used his police skills to locate the car. 

“Don’t… just don’t do that,” Shaw said, and she meant – don’t make me even think you could see what just happened.

“So here’s my question,” Fusco interjected, “… how is Shaw gonna know what a Chief Joy Officer does?”

It was a valid question.

“ _Happiness_ , Fusco; Chief _Happiness_ Officer,” Shaw barked and Fusco mumbled something about that was why he asked. 

“Don’t worry, Lionel. Given how little time we have, we’ll be employing some audio assistance for her meeting,” Root explained, because it took her very little time to put together a plan.

At the very same moment; both Shaw and Fusco rambled about the wisdom of that fact.

“You’re unleashing her on them?” Fusco asked in the crudest manner possible. “No offense, Shaw?”

“Oh, none taken, Fusco!” Shaw yelled. “I swear when I get outta this car…,” she threatened. “How is he keeping up with me?” she wondered as she accelerated. 

“We’re not invisible,” Root softly reminded her wife as she pressed buttons on her laptop so that the Machine might jam any highway police speed guns. 

“Oh, look at that!” Shaw said, looking in her rearview mirror and smiling broadly. “Fusco got caught!”

In his attempt to keep even close to his friends, Fusco took his eye off the speedometer and fell right into the trap. He was tempted to ask how the cop didn’t see the speeding red sports car, but knew it would only waste more time. The cop did accept his badge and told him to mind the speed limits. By the time he got back on the road, his friends were miles ahead. Shaw’s car might have been out of sight, but her voice came though the speaker crystal clear.

“You okay _all_ the way back there, Fusco?” she taunted her friend.

Lionel growled at the sound of her voice. “I hope they’re all Red Sox fans in your meeting there, Shaw!”

Now, if there is one deeply ingrained difference between New Yorkers and Bostonians – it is in their baseball team allegiances. The only thing that unites them is their loathing for the others’ team. It’s ageless; being handed down through generations of baseball lovers. New York Yankee fans trash talk the Boston Red Sox as they do the same. The competitiveness is deep. And Fusco’s remark made Shaw realize just _where_ she was headed. 

“Root,” she said, as if for the first time considering the athletic loyalty. “Are they going to be… Red Sox fans?”

“Hmm?” Root asked, not quite looking up from her laptop. 

“Root!” Shaw said impatiently. “Red Sox?”

Knowing she had to appeal to her wife’s tactical skill set, Root turned it all around and answered: “You know you like a good challenge, Sweetie. We have a bad guy… or girl… to catch.”

In theory that whole thing made sense to Shaw. She had to do undercover work, playing a myriad of roles. But she never dreamed that her next clandestine job might include a room full of fans from the dreaded competition. 

“Someone’s gonna get hurt,” Fusco said, but thankfully, not over the Bluetooth.

* * *

The couple arrived in record time and went to the hotel to change. “Geez, Root, really?” Shaw commented as she slipped into a black jersey dress that had a modest neckline until it stretched over Shaw’s newly acquired expanded chest. 

“Let’s be careful where we put that name tag on,” Root smiled as she pinned it on her wife. 

It was a ten minute ride to the company’s location, in which time Root reviewed all they had to do. While Shaw was conducting the workshop that had been scheduled that day, Root would be accessing their databases to see what she could find on the data breach. 

The workshop would give Shaw ample time to size up the people who might have had access to the key security systems. 

“Here’s your earpiece,” Root said, affixing the small instrument into her wife’s ear. 

“What is this?” Shaw asked, more concerned about concealing her cleavage.

“So we can talk,” Root smiled as if that answered everything. 

“Sure,” Shaw sighed, knowing it was better to just go along with the plan. 

“Remember, you are _Judi Torres_ ,” Root smiled as she affixed her own name tag. “And I’m _Rachel Hughes._ ”

“Don’t I get a code name?” Fusco asked, coming right through Shaw’s earpiece and surprising the hell out of her. She pushed back against the elevator wall, trying not to appear startled. 

“Yeah, your name is _Number One Pain in My Ass_ ,” Shaw barked. 

Unfazed by her name calling, Fusco announced the second string of bad news to his friend. “You know, Shaw, they don’t got any good bagels up here.” 

Sameen patted her pocketbook. “I’m gonna shoot him, Root. Just so you know.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Root agreed as they headed to the company location.

* * *

While the couple was on their way upstairs, the staff was getting ready for the workshop leaders. 

“Another freaking workshop?” one attendee complained of the mandatory meeting. “These are such a waste of time!”

“Don’t let Jarrod hear you that. He’s all about the providing the proper training for management,” the other one advised. 

“I have no time for this. We had a major breach this week. I have to get back to that!” the first insisted. 

“Oh, right. Any new leads?” the second attendee asked.

“None,” the first groaned. “It’s like they knew exactly what they were doing.”


	11. The Voice of Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading along. I do appreciate it. Thanks, too, for your comments - love them!

As the staff members were settling into the conference room, Root was announcing their arrival to the front desk. She had swept her hair up into a bun and donned glasses to dissuade anyone from recognizing her. She whipped out a second pair of black rim glasses and put them on Shaw.

“Really?” Shaw commented. “Like I don’t look _enough_ like a nerd?” Root had to smile that what her wife was attributing her nerdom to was the name tag. 

“You are _so_ adorable,” Root whispered just as the partner approached them and welcomed them. 

“Nerd and adorable,” Shaw whispered back. “Just what I was going for.”

“Welcome, ladies!” the tall man said and Shaw groaned. “We are so glad to have you here today. Can I get you coffee?”

“Shot of whiskey would be more like it,” Shaw said under her breath and Root remembered she forgot the most important thing. 

“Could my associate and I just … freshen up?” Root smiled and the man indicated where the bathrooms were. 

“Freshen up?” Shaw repeated and Root gently pulled her by the hand. “I forgot my nerd to English dictionary.”

* * *

Root waited until the room was empty and then locked the door. “We… have something to do,” Root said, her tone warm and syrupy. It completely confused her wife.

“You don’t…,” Shaw said, looking around at their surroundings, “… want to do it in here!”

“What?” Root said, confused for a second. “Oh!”

“I mean… _how_ would we…?” Shaw was asking and her wife appreciated the fact that she was giving serious thought to working out that dilemma. 

“Oh, thank you, Sweetie, but I meant this…,” Root smiled, placing the audio device in Shaw’s ear.   
“This is how we’re going to know what to say…,” she continued as she affixed the device. “And there’s a camera in your glasses right here.”

“Why?” asked the woman who liked to do things the old fashioned way.

“I wrote a little program last night that will analyze body and eye movements of anyone we see. She’ll analyze the data and give us some clues as to who might be our suspect,” Root theorized.

“ _She_ … is going to do _my_ job?” Shaw asked insulted. “I don’t think so!”

The emphasis on the pronouns did not escape Root. Nor did Shaw’s exasperated tone of the obvious. Root knew what her goal was from the start and that wasn’t going to change. “You’re right,” she said and Shaw had her argument drawn from the proverbial holster before she finished. 

“Because if you think she… oh,” Shaw said, putting her verbal gun back slowly. “Okay, then.”

“How about you keep the earpiece in case you want to know the correct terminology for the workshop,” Root proposed.

Shaw stopped short of ripping the device out of her ear. “What do we do again?” she asked, remembering that she had no idea what their cover actually meant.

“Well, I’m the CEO of Boston HR Specialists and you are the Chief…,” Root began.

“Yeah, Bliss Queen; I got it,” Shaw interpreted. 

“Remember, happy employees…,” Root reminded her of the job’s goal.

“Are seriously the most annoying,” Shaw finished. “Let’s get this thief.”

* * *

With that, the two women exited the bathroom and headed to their designated rooms. Shaw was standing in the doorway of the crowded room, as Root endeared herself to the CEO and went into his office. 

Sameen didn’t realize it, but the expression on her face as she surveyed the attendees was more disgust than happiness. It was as if she were suspended in time as she considered if this job were worth the aggravation she was certain she was about to experience. 

“You must be Judie Torres,” an overzealous woman said, grabbing Sameen’s hand even though Shaw tried to pull away. “Welcome! Welcome!” she said exuberantly. “I speak for everyone when I say - we have been SO looking forward to this workshop!”

Sameen looked past the woman with an incredulous look on her face now. “Even that guy?” she asked, looking at a man whose eyes were barely open. 

“Chuck worked late last night,” she whispered and that piqued Sameen’s interest. 

“Working late, Chuck?” Shaw asked with a slap to the man’s back, who immediately sprung up in his seat.

Suddenly, there was a strange male voice in Shaw’s ear. “You might want to … (crunch, crunch) take it easy there, Judie!” the voice snickered. 

It took Shaw a second, as her eyes cast downward and she frowned. “FUSCO? What the hell???”

“Chuck,” the man corrected her. “Yes, I was working late. Sorry about the snooze there.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shaw asked and was referring to her friend in her ear.

“I… was told… it’s mandatory?” Chuck responded, afraid of the aggressive tone in the presenter. 

“We all were told to attend,” the warm greeter explained.

“Getting off to a great start, Shaw,” Fusco said between bites of the worst bagel the cop ever ate. “We should teach them how to make bagels.”

“I’m going to shoot you…,” Shaw was promising when she finally realized that everyone could hear her. “Shoot you with… that latest… things,” she fumbled, plastering a smile on her face. “Let’s just get started, shall we?” she asked, her smile so fake even Fusco could sense it. 

“Take it down a notch, Shaw,” he prompted. 

“Let’s see what we got here,” Shaw said, opening up the portfolio that she had glanced at last night. She read the opening line. “Happy employees are devoted employees!” she said, trying to sound convincing. 

It struck Lionel so funny to hear his stoic friend trying to sound friendly that he nearly choked on his coffee. 

“I swear to God!” Shaw snapped and caught herself as people pulled back in their seat. “I swear… this is going to be fun!”

“Nice save, Shaw,” Fusco replied. 

Shaw did not see the wisdom of having her annoying friend in her ear at the moment and wished Root had warned her. Suddenly, a friendlier female voice echoed in Shaw’s earpiece. Even the Machine knew she needed to explain her presence to Sameen.

“ _Shaw, I am here to assist you in your role at the Chief Happiness Officer for today’s workshop. The premise is to offer employees a safe space to talk about issues that they would not be comfortable discussing with the higher management. Therefore, it might be helpful if you encourage them to use this time to go over particular issues that might be on their minds. You might be able to get a sense of anyone who might be disgruntled_ ,” the Machine suggested. 

And if anyone was concerned that their guest might be struggling with some mental health issues; Sameen uttered: “Too many voices.” 

“Okay, people, here’s what we’re going to do,” Shaw said, finally sitting down and almost putting her feet up on the desk until she realized she was in a dress. She sat up in the chair and pulled all the way in. “Let’s talk about what’s really bothering us.”

“The Red Sox switching pitchers in the 5th inning?” one guy joked and just as Fusco whispered – “oh, oh,” Sameen grabbed the sides of the conference table to restrain herself. 

“This is a no baseball zone!” Shaw more than shouted and startled a few attendees. “I mean… it’s a safe place,” she said, remember the instructions, “… for work things; stuff that’s on your mind about work.”

“Strict rules,” groaned one of the young women.

Shaw looked around and decided it would be easier for her to pull her gun out, put it to one of them and make someone confess to whatever they knew about the security break. 

Finally, the only voice she really wanted to hear appeared in her audio device. “Do you have your laptop open, Sweetie?” Root’s smooth voice asked. 

“Finally,” Shaw said and people thought they were about to get down to business. “Yes,” Shaw replied softly and opened it on the table.

“I’m going to send you a PowerPoint file. Share it with the group, okay?” Root asked.

“Got it,” Shaw said, seeing the document arrive on her screen. 

By this time, the attendees had grown use to Shaw’s self-talk. 

“I’m sending this to your clouds, people. Open it up so we can begin this happiness fest,” Shaw instructed. 

“If this doesn’t turn out to be the most interesting workshop, I bet it’s going to be the craziest,” Chuck whispered to his coworker. 

Chuck had no idea just how crazy it was going to get. 


	12. This is What Happens When Shaw Runs a Seminar

Root knew she had to act quickly. Not because she was afraid of their cover being blown; but because she knew her wife’s tolerance of making sure people were content was limited. _Very_ limited.

“So, let’s see what we have here,” Shaw said, opening up the PowerPoint slides that Root sent her. She figured out already that whatever was on the slides, the purpose of sending it to everyone in the room was for Root to gain access to their laptops. “Very clever,” Shaw said and of course, no one in the room understood her, but accepted it. 

“So, let’s talk about what our concerns are at work,” Shaw started the conversation.

“You want us to talk about our feelings?” the woman in charge of Finance asked.

“Geez, no!” Shaw immediately answered with a look of disgust on her face.

“Sweetie,” Root whispered in her ear. “We do actually want to encourage them.” Only Root could find the right tone to announce Shaw was incorrect.

“We do?” Shaw said, looking down at her chest.

“Are you… okay?” Chuck finally had to ask. 

“What? Yes, okay, we’ll talk about our feelings. What are they?” Shaw started over.

The attendees looked at each other, not yet convinced of their instructor’s sincerity. 

“I’ll start,” Shaw smiled as a gesture of good faith. Her head swung from side to side, surveying the room. “I would begin with the lack of food in this place. Do they even feed you?”

Root bit her lip at how sincere Sameen’s first attempt was.

“The cafeteria … is okay,” the woman who greeted Shaw volunteered. 

“Just…okay? Linda?” Shaw asked, looking at her name tag.

“We’re usually too busy to eat,” Chuck confessed. 

“Well, that’s the first thing we need to change,” Shaw proposed because she couldn’t imagine being too … _anything_ … to eat. 

“We could use some vending machines,” someone piped up. 

“Vending? You need like real food,” Shaw racked her brain because this was one of her areas of expertise. “You must have a budget for that sort of thing?” she continued. 

“Actually,” interrupted the woman from Finance. “We’ve got a freeze on all corporate spending at the moment.”

Even though Sameen didn’t understand what that had to do with providing snacks, it did spark her interest. “How’s that, Muriel?” Shaw asked, reading the woman’s name tag. 

“We… are in the process of a possible buyout,” she offered.

“It’s not definite,” said the overzealous greeter, Linda; and Shaw noticed she sounded insistent. 

“Let’s talk about that. How are you guys feeling about this? What does it mean to each of you?” Shaw said, digging in her bag and moving her gun over to get at a protein bar that Root packed for her. She ripped the paper off and shoved it in her mouth and bit off a piece. “You,” she said, pointing the bar at Chuck. 

“Well, it could mean … that all of us in the room … could lose our jobs,” he enlightened their guest speaker. 

“So, you guys _must_ have some _feelings_ about that, right?” Shaw prompted them. 

They traded eye glances once again. “I mean, if I were being screwed, I’d be upset,” Shaw suggested.

“Now, that’s not necessarily true,” Root cooed in her ear. :"I have evidence to the contrary." 

“What are you doing, can I ask?” Sameen did and everyone looked at her … again. Realizing that her question intended for her wife now lay on the table for the group. “I mean…,” she tried to regroup the group, “… I would take full advantage of a workshop like this where I could talk about my feelings in a safe environment.” 

The group thought it over and most concurred that Judie Torres was right. 

“Okay, I’ll start…,” Chuck began and started to endear himself to Shaw. He began to share how the merger meant long hours for him in IT and that the end seemed nowhere in sight.”

“I have college tuition bills to pay,” said Muriel concerned for her future. 

“ _Shaw, I suggest you show them slide number five. The impact on family life,_ ” the Machine suggested.

“Good point, Muriel. That seems to go with slide…,” Shaw hesitated.

“Five,” the Machine interjected.

“Five, five! I get it,” Shaw snapped.

“Five or fifty-five?” Chuck asked.

“Right, Chuck; like I would do a workshop with fifty-five slides,” laughed Sameen. “Five.”

Everyone looked at the presentation slide and agreed. The stress they were feeling at work was definitely spilling over to their home lives. Sameen watched as they exchanged examples of how they were dealing with it, when she noticed that the only one not contributing was the woman who had greeted her. Shaw narrowed her eyes and took in that she seemed to fidget it her seat. In fact, it seemed to Sameen that the entire room was on board with expressing their concerns except this woman. 

As the group openly discussed their shared concerns; Root reported to Sameen that the PowerPoint download showed nothing suspicious on any of their laptops. “Whoever sent those secret emails must know a thing or two about computers,” Root suggested and Shaw’s eyes immediately locked onto Chuck. 

“But here’s something else,” Root whispered in her wife’s ear. “Seems our CEO is having an affair with…,” but before Root could share who she was, Sameen’s deductive skills completed the thought.

“… Linda,” Shaw said and Root smiled to think how clever she was.

“Lots of email exchanges late at night and weekends,” Root confirmed.

While Root had her hard data to connect the possible dots, Shaw had her gut instinct. The woman in question stood out in this crowd of employees who were in full swing of spilling their guts. While each of them shared what the merger could mean, only Linda seemed agitated, yet quiet. 

And while Root would continue to search for further clues to prove their theory that Linda might know something, Shaw was about to call her out by pushing her buttons.

“So, Linda,” Sameen said over the noise of the group, “… you seem rather calm about this possible merger. As if you weren’t concerned about losing your job.”

People stopped talking and looked down the table at Linda. It was as if they just noticed how she was the only one not contributing. 

“Whatta ya thinking, Shaw?” Fusco finally piped in, noticing a certain tone in his friend’s voice. He put the bag of donuts down, but not before spraying white powder across his suit lapel. “Dammit!”

“Could you stop eating for one minute,” Shaw asked and people looked around to see how she was talking to. 

“ _It would seem that the employee in question is exhibiting anxious body language_ ,” the Machine popped in and Shaw remembered she was still wearing the disguise glasses. She whipped them off and threw them behind her. 

“I got this,” Shaw announced and it was the certainty in her tone what seemed to unnerve Linda the most. 

“She’s got this,” Root echoed so that the Machine didn’t try to interfere again. 

“What does she got?” Fusco wanted to know as he started his car.

Sameen wasn’t quite sure what this woman knew, but her gut told her she was definitely a suspect. 

“Care to enlighten us?” Shaw said, standing up, putting her purse down in front of her. 

“What?” Linda shouted too loudly. “What are you saying?” There was something in Sameen’s behavior that completely frightened this woman, even though she couldn’t figure it out. 

“Tell us what you know about this merger,” Shaw prodded the woman, expecting one of two things. One possibility was the woman would make a run for it. Two, if Shaw was right, the suspect might start trying to throw everyone off the track by overly denying things. 

No one expected Linda to draw a gun from her pocketbook. 

Given that there were metal detectors in the entrance of the building, it would take someone clever to get a gun through. Like Shaw. And Shaw sized up Linda as someone not as clever. So, she had to have figured out a way around the security system. Just like she did when accessing the sensitive information on the CEO’s computer. 

People screamed and ducked when they saw their fellow employee with the gun in her hand. Shaw noticed the slightest shake and knew this woman was not comfortable with the firearm. That was not good. 

“Okay, okay,” Shaw said to calm everyone down. 

“What the hell kind of Chief Happiness Officer are you?” Linda screamed down the table at Sameen. In spite of the chaos going on at the moment, everyone under the table actually considered it a good question. 

“The kind that can grab the gun out of my purse here on the desk and shoot you before you have time to pull that trigger, Linda,” Shaw said promisingly. 

“I… have… a gun… pointed at you!” Linda reminded the woman making threats. 

“Yeah, thank you for that. Up until now, I really thought this was just going to be a lame ass seminar,” Shaw confessed.

“Way to keep her occupied, Shaw,” Fusco said, making his was to the police station where he knew someone was about to place a 911 call for a possible hostage situation in the office building. 

“Any confirmation?” Shaw asked Root before making her next move. 

While Shaw was triggering the suspect, Root had ascertained from the CEO – under pressure – that he and Linda had been having an affair. He shared that the woman seemed upset that the sale of the company would mean his removal as CEO and most certainly, the end of their affair. 

“Look, Linda,” Shaw began, “… why don’t we let your coworkers leave, and we can sit down and talk.”

“No!” Linda shouted and didn’t have an escape plan prepared. “I’ll… I’ll shoot one of them!” she threatened and people instinctively popped their heads up to see who the chosen one was going to be. Their sudden movement caused Linda to whirl the gun around and aim it at one of them. 

“Not Chuck!” Shaw said, when Linda stopped and pointed it at him. “I like him.” Heads jerked back under the table and silent prayers became audible. “Look, Linda… let’s just talk about this…”

“Dear God, please let her come to her senses,” someone prayed loudly.

“I’m working here,” Shaw yelled at them to stop.

“Nice touch, Shaw,” Fusco said, rushing into the precinct to plead his case. Now, all he had to do was convince the local Boston police that he was there working with two undercover police personnel in a sting operation. “Piece of cake,” Fusco rolled his eyes because nothing was simple when it came to these two friends. 

Shaw was running out of patience when the group heard the sound of police car sirens approaching. 

“You called the cops?” Linda asked as if that seemed a little over the top. 

“Right, like I would let them do my job,” Shaw spat, equally annoyed that someone called them. 

“Your job? What is your job?” Linda asked and was waving the gun around.

“Do not wave that gun at me,” Shaw said, because she knew how easily those things could go off. 

But Linda kept waving it; mostly because her hand was shaking and so Shaw had no choice. 

“I’m going to give you one more chance to put that down,” Shaw said, but Linda wasn’t listening. 

And then everyone, including Root and Fusco – heard the gun go off. 


	13. Back Seat Driver

There was _no_ doubt in Root’s mind that Shaw would have the entire situation under control, but no one expected gunshots. Root knew if there was a way to handle a tense situation without using her gun on civilians, Sameen would figure it out. But at the moment, Root was staring at the hole that appeared in the CEO’s floor – having been propelled there when a gun went off in the room beneath them. 

“That is not Sameen,” Root uttered and the very frightened CEO stared at her. He had been inches away from the exit point of the bullet. “Really not her style at all.”

“WHAT?” the man asked, his voice shaken and not knowing who or what _Sameen_ was. 

“There’s a reason she hasn’t disarmed the shooter yet,” Root thought out loud. 

“She shot someone? Geez Louise, the cops are seconds away!” Fusco shouted.

* * *

Downstairs, it was hard to figure out if Shaw was more annoyed by the careless aim of the shooter or the fact that the cops were going to be there any minute.

“Give me that!” Shaw shouted annoyed, and put her hand out as she walked toward the shooter.

“I’m serious!” Linda shouted and took a step back.

“What _you_ are, lady, is seriously deranged!” Shaw assessed and shared. “And by the way; you are the worst administrative assistant in-the-world!”

Shaw hesitated a second when she was certain she heard one of the people cowering under the table utter the words: “ _Hashtag; BEST workshop ever_!” She rolled her eyes and kept moving. “Give me the gun. I’m not going to ask again.”

“You ruined everything!” Linda shouted, her plan unraveling faster than she could think. 

“Yeah, it’s a gift,” Shaw replied and noticed that Linda was not giving up the gun.

“Careful, Shaw; she sounds like she’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal,” Fusco warned his friend.

“It’s always food with you,” Shaw took a second out to chastise him. “How about an ETA?”

Chuck poked his head up because he was beginning to suspect that their Chief Happiness Officer was not delusional. He lifted his phone and pressed video. Surely, his one hundred and sixty-seven followers on Twitter would want to see this! 

“Lobby, Shaw,” Fusco replied and upstairs, Root knew what that meant. 

“It will be over very soon,” she almost giggled with excitement to the very confused CEO. 

“ _Who_ are you people?” he asked. 

“Shush, we have to go,” Root said and went into the elevator to go downstairs. “Over here where we can see,” she pulled the CEO and her face got all flushed, listening to her wife go all Rambo inside the conference room. She was practically… _oh, who are we kidding here?_ Root was squealing with delight.

Shaw was inching closer to the woman who was realizing her entire plan was going up in smoke and she was going to get caught for a felony. “I will shoot you!” she said, pointing the gun at Sameen, feeling she had nothing to lose.

“That will really piss me off, lady; and I promise you, you don’t want that!” Shaw countered. “As it is I’m only working off of one protein bar.”

When the distance equaled what Shaw knew she could navigate, she lunged at the woman, pushed her up against the wall with the gun above her head, before twisting her around and disarming her completely. Only a little less surprising than their speaker’s quick actions, was the zip tie she pulled out of her dress to apprehend the shooter. 

“Was that down her dress?” the CEO questioned.

“She’s very resourceful,” Root agreed.

* * *

The police swarmed the hallway approaching the conference. “Everybody down!” Only one person refused the order and that was because she was almost giddy as she stood in the corner watching her wife. “Isn’t she something?” Root asked and only Fusco paid her any attention. 

“That’s my guy… girl… that one... handling the situation,” Fusco said to the cop in charge. 

“Can we get confirmation on the situation?” the cop asked as other cops stormed the room. 

“Under control,” they reported back.

“Of course,” Root smiled, her hips swaying with excitement. 

The police escorted Linda from the room. She professed her love to her boss as they led her out. People finally emerged from under the table and thanked Shaw profusely for her bravery. 

“I thought you were just nuts, but… wow!” one of them exclaimed.

“A little of both,” Fusco added his comment. “You okay there, Tor-res?”

“Where’s Root?” was of course, Shaw’s first question. 

Root rushed in and grabbed Sameen, unable to control how turned on she was by the display of her wife’s muscled body slamming the perp up against the glass. She pulled Sameen quickly into a long kiss.

“Woot? Woot?” Sameen finally said because she had opened her eyes and could see Root was not letting go. 

“Nice job, Officer…?” the cop in charge said, wondering how the taller woman fit into this operation. 

“Torres,” Fusco answered for his friend who was too busy staring at Root running her tongue across her lower lip. “One of our finest,” Lionel said, pushing his square body between the cop and Shaw. “You want she should write up something for you?”

“Yeah, we would,” the local cop said and eyed the threesome suspiciously. 

“Sure,” Fusco smiled and put his arm around Root and Shaw to guide them outside. “They’re gonna want a statement.” 

“Yeah?” Shaw finally asked, looking around at the crowd. “How about the Red Socks su…”

“THANK YOU, TORRES!!” Fusco yelled loud enough to drown out his friend. 

Now that people were allowed to leave the room, but had to stay for questioning and statements, some of them ran to Sameen. “You were wicked in there!” “You’re not really a Chief Happiness Officer, are you, Officer Torres?”

‘Yeah, right,” Fusco murmured too loudly.

“What?” Shaw shouted insulted. “You don’t think I look like a Chief Happiness Officer, because I think I look like a damn good Chief Happiness Officer,” shouted the non-officer of any kind. 

“Here we go,” Fusco complained.

* * *

By the time Shaw calmed down over her perceived insults and Fusco dodged enough bullets about this so called operation, the threesome were cleared to leave. 

“I am starving,” Root heard both Sameen and Fusco complain. 

“I think we could manage dinner before heading to the hotel,” Root suggested.

“YES!” Fusco said, thinking he could avoid the drive back to the city.

“I don’t know…,” Shaw said slowly and Root knew what had happened. They facetimed with the girls before and now Shaw was feeling melancholy.

“If we go to the hotel, I promise you a _big_ surprise,” Root smiled, gently pushing into her wife with her hip.

“Right, big _surprise_ ,” Shaw blurted out, “… you get so turned on when I disarm someone what it won’t exactly be a big surprise, Root. You rip my clothes off faster than I apprehend people,” she said, using her outside voice when she really should have whispered it.

“Okay, I can’t unsee that now,” Fusco complained. 

“Silly,” Root gently corrected her wife. “We can do _that_ in the car ride there.”

“See? I really should advise you guys to keep your hands on the wheel,” Fusco said, and wished he hadn’t. 

“Okay, Detective, I’ll use my feet to drive,” Shaw said, pulling Root into the elevator and waving goodbye to her friend.

Lionel looked around and realized everyone had left and he was standing there all alone. “Hey,” he said to no one, “… I was promised dinner.” Of course no one responded. He let out a sigh and was pressing the elevator button when it opened immediately. There were his two friends, returning to pick him up.

“Root wanted to leave you, but I told her I couldn’t listen to your whiney ass all the way back to New York,” Shaw teased him. 

“Want to go to dinner,” Fusco asked, a large smile plastered across his face. 

“Let’s go to a bar where the Yankees are playing!” Shaw said enthusiastically. “Then, we’ll start…”

“Not a good idea,” Root decided because she could easily predict how many fights her wife would start over her passion for the team. “Besides, you will miss out on your surprise.”

“Not in front of the kids,” Shaw grimaced, jerking her head at Fusco. 

In order for Root’s surprise to work, Sameen and she would have to use what time alone they had in the car. 

“I would really like to see your Chief Happiness Officer skills at work,” Root cooed and pressed the buttons for the Machine to take over control of the car. 

This time, Sameen happily relinquished control of the vehicle as both seats reclined. 

“Oh, I put the _happy_ in Happiness Officer,” Shaw smiled, making good on her promise. 

But just as Sameen was putting the moves on her wife, that voice was in her ear. 

“Hey, guys?” Fusco called out. “Your windows are all dark again. Is that even legal?” he wondered out loud. 

The car made a sharp turn as Fusco’s kept driving straight. 

“Finally, she did something I like,” Shaw said, pulling the earpiece out and tossing it in the back along with some clothes. 


	14. From the Mouths of Babes

By the time the couple struggled to get dressed again in a more or less horizontal position and finally emerged from the car, Fusco had caught up with them. 

“Damn,” he said, running his finger along the now clear rear window. There was something very curious about what Fusco knew he saw. Tinted windows were one thing; windows changing while the car was in motion were something else. His natural detective curiosity got the better of him and he started to look for clues. 

He wasn’t going to have to look very far.

“Must you follow us everywhere?” Shaw yelled at him as they walked to the hotel where they had just invited him to dinner.

“Hey, Maybelline,” he yelled at her, walking behind with the clearest view of his confirmation that something had been going on to change those windows.

“I swear, Bear is easier to take care of,” Shaw yelled back, ignoring her friend. She was feeling pretty good about the way she handled that situation at the company and as usual, part of her cockiness included putting everyone else down. Well, _not_ everyone. 

“You were magnificent,” Root smiled as they entered the hotel. 

“I know how to disarm a perp,” Shaw acknowledged, happy to have her skills tested.

“Oh, yes, that, too,” Root chuckled and pushed into Shaw as they waited for the elevator.

“Hey, Rambo,” Fusco called out and had to quicken his step to catch up. 

Shaw barely held the door before Fusco hopped through the doorway. “I’m calling you here,” he complained.

“Okay, okay, Fusco; I’ll try to teach you how to be stealthy, but I’m thinking your chances are not good,” Shaw teased him. 

“Lionel was a big help to us,” Root countered her wife’s joking, “… thank you, Lionel.” 

“Why can’t you be more polite like her?” Lionel asked his friend. 

“Because I know you better?” Shaw quipped.

“Fine, Ms. Know-it-all. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” her friend warned her and decided to teach her a lesson in civility. 

Shaw would have badgered him because she was losing patience, feeling Fusco was trying to rain on her “LOOK AT ME” parade, but Root was waiting at the hotel door and asking if she was ready for her big surprise. 

“It better be well done,” Shaw said, thinking Root had pre-ordered dinner. 

“Like your ego,” Fusco said, smiling at the obvious clue that both women had missed. 

“Do you believe this guy?” Shaw was saying as Root swung open the door. 

“MAMA!!!” Michael cried, racing towards her mothers. 

“Oh my God!” Shaw blurted out excitedly, and fell to her knees to hug her daughter.

“Mommy said that this was a secret and a surprise and we couldn’t say anything and grandma took us in the car and drove FOR A LONG TIME,” Michael explained, her hands outstretched to describe the longest ride of her life. “Because we missed you. I did and Gabrielle cried, but just a little,” Michael added, not taking a breath.

“Is she okay?” Shaw asked her mother, concerned.

“She’s fine, Anan,” Azar said affectionately. “She’s a joy.”

“Like her mother,” Shaw added.

“Yes, just like Root,” Azar teased. 

Michael squealed with delight and planted several kisses on Root’s cheeks. “I told mama about Gabriel crying just a little even though Grandma said I shouldn’t because Mama gets crazy. What is _crazy_ , Mommy?” asked the toddler who absorbed everything that everyone said. 

Shaw’s eyes locked on her mother. “I’m not sure that was the … _exact_ … word…,” she said, her voice deep and warm. She switched to her native tongue of Farsi to explain what she meant.

“RIDE!” Michael said, when Lionel bent down and greeted his niece. Dutifully, and in his good suit, Lionel bent down on all fours as Michael climbed on his back, holding onto his collar. 

Shaw was busy admonishing her mother when her daughter noticed what Lionel saw moments before. 

“Mama? Mama?” Michael called as Lionel moved around and made her giggle. 

Shaw was busy greeting Gabrielle with kisses and making a fuss over her. As soon as the baby heard her mother, she squirmed to be fed. “Time to eat?”

“Me, too!” Michael yelled because she wanted the cookies her grandmother had promised her. 

Standing up now, Lionel shook his head that no one caught on. “Hey, Shaw – you might want to take off your name badge.”

“ _Hey, Shaw, you might want to take off your name badge_ ,” Michael repeated in a deep toddler voice.

“Geez, Fusco; you think you could have told me that before?” Shaw answered and put her hand up to rip the plastic decoy off. But it wasn’t there. And neither was her neckline. Both of her hands now swept across her chest, looking for the object, unable to imagine where it went. 

“Oh,” Root said, finally catching on. "Sweetie?"

“I tried to tell yous,” Fusco reminded them.

“How… is your dress on backwards?” Shaw’s mother just had to ask.

“Yeah, Shaw, how is that?” Fusco asked, honestly hoping she wouldn’t explain it. “I’m just saying,” he reminded her…again. 

Sameen knew she couldn’t explain it because children were present – and she meant her friend. “I…,” but she was speechless.

“Oh, sure; that explains it,” Fusco said, taking full advantage of his friend’s forced silence. 

It was Root to the rescue who explained how slippery the material was and the design of the dress was so versatile, you could wear it either way. “Well, Sameen can,” she smiled broadly, kissing her wife’s lips that were pouting. 

“Iamstillgoingtogethim,” Shaw said, her lips pressed against Root’s.

“Okay,” her wife agreed. 

Sameen excused herself so that she could change into something more comfortable and to nurse Gabrielle. Just as she finished, and as Root negotiated the number of cookies Michael could have, there was a knock at the door with dinner. 

“I hope it’s steak!” came the cry from both Sameen and Fusco. 

“Yes, it is,” said Root. “I know _exactly_ how to whet your appetite.”

Fusco was busy thanking her, but Shaw was staring at Root because she knew from the expression on her wife’s face, it was an all- _so-not-subtle_ double entendre.

“How do you get away with saying those things, but I can’t?” Shaw complained as she lifted the silver dome on the room service plates and inhaled the odor of her favorite meal. Second favorite. 

“We each have our strengths,” Root teased and fixed a plate of chicken nuggets for Michael. 

“I do it!” the independent child said. 

“Is this _your_ influence?” Shaw asked her mother between loud chews. 

“Do you need help, Michael?” Azar asked her granddaughter.

“No, thank you, Grandma,” Michael smiled back pleasantly. 

Azar raised her eyebrow and nodded to her daughter. “She has a streak of you in her, darling.”

“ _She has a streak of you in her, darling_ ,” came the repeated sentence and when Root looked over; both Shaw and Michael had uttered the same words.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, a very ecstatic Janine was repeatedly pressing replay on a video that had gone viral. It seemed more than Chuck’s small gathering of Twitter Followers saw his video. A news station picked it up and sent it out en mass. They couldn’t identify the person in the video, but they could hear her clear as day. It seemed right before Sameen subdued the crazed lover; she took the time to tell her she was the _worst_ administrative assistant ever. But what had Janine sitting there dreamily was the part where Shaw explained:

“And I know because I know what a _great_ administrative assistant looks like! I have one, and lady, you don’t come close!”

The video cut out because Chuck was too afraid to keep filming, but as far as Janine was concerned, he had captured the very best part. 

This was, of course, after she panicked that Shaw wasn’t okay from the ordeal and insisted that Zoe Morgan call her contacts in Boston and get confirmation that everyone was okay. 

“Backwards? How the hell did that happen?” Zoe was asking the guy she knew at the hotel where Root and Shaw were staying. The man assured her he didn’t know, but he had seen it plain as day.

“They’re all fine, babe,” Zoe assured her wife. “Probably _better_ than fine.”


	15. Riding the Wave of Excitement

Those few short words that Shaw uttered about her own administrative assistant _were - Christmas, Year-end bonus, finding the perfect parking spot,_ and _chocolate_ – all rolled up into one for the woman she was speaking about. Zoe watched in amazement as her wife rewatched the video that had gone viral. 

“Did you hear? What she said there?” Janine asked Zoe, practically choking up. 

“Yes, yes, I did,” said the Fixer, who long ago decided she had to accept her wife’s obsession with her boss. “Sounds like she meant…”

“She did, I really think she did,” Janine interrupted her. Zoe watched as her spouse ran her finger over the screen. “Did you ever get to Dr. Campbell yesterday?” she asked gently. _Wouldn’t hurt to have a professional check this out_ , she was thinking, when Janine jumped up and pushed her against the wall and kissed her hard. “Where did that…?”

“I’m happy,” Janine explained. “And I’m lucky to have you in my life.”

“You mean _me_ , right?” Zoe only half kidded because she wanted to be sure.

“I love Shaw; I do, and I’m glad she appreciates how hard I work,” Janine thought through. “I’m luckier than most in my job. But coming home to you is the best part of _every_ day.”

The very confident Morgan wasn’t expecting this. “Oh, that’s… nice to hear,” she said, smiling into dreamy blue eyes. 

“And I’ve got a surprise for you,” the angelic faced woman smiled devilishly.

“I can’t imagine,” Zoe swallowed hard, because Janine always managed to surprise her.

“We still have _Cool Whip_ , right?” she asked innocently.

Zoe’s high heel gave out and she topped over against the wall. “Yes,” she said, and clenched her eyes when her usually calm voice squeaked. 

“Good! But that’s… not even the surprise,” Janine whispered, invading Zoe’s space until the older woman thought she’d lose her breath. 

“You’re going to kill me,” Zoe said, thinking it would be listed in the Guinness World Records as the best death ever!

“Maybe,” Janine said, never once assuring her that this wouldn’t push her over the edge. 

“I… better… go,” Zoe pointed to the elevator, but couldn’t move. 

“Just one more…,” Janine said, pulling Zoe into another deep emotional kiss. 

When the two finally parted, and Morgan felt she could walk on her own, she went into the elevator. With a very broad smile on her face, and in spite of the others standing around her, she said out loud: “I’m going to have to thank Shaw for that.”

* * *

Miles away, up in Boston; Shaw was making a complete ruckus by bouncing Michael on the bed and making her scream. It woke up Gabrielle, who started crying. Azar tried talking sternly to her daughter to stop, but to no avail. The only thing that saved the room from melting into complete chaos was room service arriving. 

Michael watched in awe as her mother devoured the steak; talking with large pieces of it still being chewed. She observed how her other mom carefully put the napkin in Shaw’s lap and refilled the water glass so she didn’t choke. 

By the time everyone was done with dessert, the girls were tired and their grandmother offered to take them with her into the adjoining room. Fusco bade them all good night and retired to his room. He would call Iris and share that the sting went very well and he saved his friends – once again – by charming the Boston Police Department into believing they were working with him. 

No one was more excited with the day than Shaw. 

“I still got it,” she said, tooth brush moving around in her mouth as she spoke. “I mean… (spit)… I knew I did. You don’t lose skills like that. You know the ones engrained in you…(spit, gargle, spit). But it was good to feel them in action.”

“You were…,” Root said, running her finger along her wife’s muscled forearm. “Hot…,” she summed up. She put her arms around Shaw’s waist from behind and hugged her. 

“You’re prejudiced,” Shaw noted.

“Everyone thought that, Sweetie. Did you see that guy, Chuck? He was practically bowing to you when it was over,” Root shared.

“Yeah?” Shaw asked, because she was still riding her adrenaline high to notice the others. “I liked him.”

“Oh?” Root said, squeezing her harder and feigning jealousy. “Not sure I like that.”

“Not sure there’s much you can do about that,” challenged her wife, playing along.

“Oh, I can do _something_ …,” Root spoke in what Sameen came to understand was her wife’s attempt at sounding tough. She pushed Shaw up against the wall, grabbing her hands behind her. 

“You know you couldn’t hold me here on you _best_ day, right Groves?” Shaw teasingly mocked.

“You don’t think so?” Root countered, but the twinkle in her eye was a dead giveaway that she knew Shaw was right. 

“Not… on… your… best… day,” Shaw repeated slowly for emphasis. 

“Are you sure about that?” Root played along and began to run her finger across Shaw’s lower lip, slowing down her ability to speak. Root pounced on that hesitation. “I don’t think you’re as sure as you were a second… ago,” she added, this time, leaning in and biting the full lip she had just gently massaged. 

The only problem with Root’s mischievousness attempt to disarm Shaw was that she got very excited in doing it. So excited, that she bit down harder than she planned on the plump lip. 

Shaw’s eyes widened when she felt the pain and the slight swelling that began. Her tongue jutted out to feel it. “Oh, so you want to do this the _hard_ way?” she questioned, her eyes smoldering now because Shaw was all about the hard way. 

Root eyes glistened over and she meant to apologize for almost drawing blood, but she was too busy staring at that mouth. “Afraid… you can’t … take it?” she was trying to get out because she loved goading her wife. 

In spite of the height difference, Shaw pushed her arms under Root, lifting her up, and carried her to the bed. Root let out a scream as Sameen then tossed her downward – onto the bed. 

“Let’s see who can take it – “Shaw threatened; “ … and who can’t. Feel free to cry ‘ _Uncle’_ when you are ready to admit I’m right,” she said, as she ripped her own blouse opened; then proceeded to disrobe Root in the same rough manner. 

Root loved this game of pushing Shaw to be more and more physical. She obviously couldn’t out muscle Sameen, but she used any opportunity to topple her over. Her dominance was brief, as Sameen immediately grabbed her arms; pulled her back down on the bed where she easily straddled her. Root pushed as hard as she could, knowing that Sameen’s strength wouldn’t allow her to move at all. She loved that sensation of being pinned beneath Shaw’s muscle-riddled body. But she also couldn’t wait to put her hands on those arms. 

“ _Uncle_ ,” Root smiled, signally her defeat.

“So easy,” Shaw playfully mocked and released her. 

Root’s hands shot up like lightning and pulled Shaw downward until their lips locked again. “I… want you,” Root admitted, casting all playfulness aside and acting on her pure necessity.

“I know,” Shaw confirmed and began a slow downward massaging of Root’s body. Root’s hands grasped upward, tugging at any clothing that was in between her and Sameen. Shaw pushed off momentarily so that they could discard their clothes to the floor. 

There wasn’t a move that Shaw made that Root wasn’t familiar with, although there seemed to be more urgency. She attributed this to Shaw still riding the high of working undercover. But the familiarity did not take away from the excitement. She pushed Root down, placing herself between her spread legs, pressing up and down slowly. Shaw was excited and Root was feeding off of it; the two of them acting with complete abandon. 

Every nerve ending was on fire for Root and it took her complete concentration not to spill over too soon. She wanted to enjoy every lavish stroke and purposeful prodding, but it was too difficult to hold back. Her hands held Sameen’s head as her body clenched in anticipation. She gave out a wail; a series of anguished rising vowels, her hands letting go so fingers could bury into the sheets and hold on while the room spun in ecstasy. 

Shaw rose victorious; a smug smile on her face that Root knew was more about being pleased than being conceited. 

Maybe because they rarely have time alone these days, that this love making seemed... different.

“That was... something…,” Root gasps out, trying to sum up how her body felt.

“I know,” Shaw says, aware of the difference. “I know.” 


	16. Why Shaw and Fusco are Friends

There was a different air about BEAR the next day, as if the building were vibrating with good feelings. Having returned from Boston and a wonderful night alone, Root and Shaw entered work ready to take on the world. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Root whispered, leaning into her wife in the elevator they rode alone. 

“You know where I’ll be, right?” Shaw asked, ever the obvious one. 

“I’ll find you,” Root promised and played with the long strand of hair that framed Sameen’s face. It took Shaw a minute to notice just how close Root was standing and the lilt in her voice. 

“Oh,” Shaw said – and felt it necessary to point out – “… I need… breakfast, though, okay?”

Root smiled to think they had breakfast already. “Of course – a girl needs her stamina.”

“Right,” Shaw agreed and allowed Root to kiss her quickly before the door opened. 

Shaw was about to brag about her undercover work and felt her wife kissing her just _might_ – take some of the edge off her story.

* * *

The first to comment on the undercover job was Martine. She was one woman who could convey a paragraph of feelings in a few words.

“Nice work, Shaw,” Martine greeted her friend.

“Thanks,” Sameen replied and added her regret –“… didn’t pull my weapon.”

“No kneecaps?” asked the woman who understood that remorse.

“Nah, corporate types,” Shaw lamented.

“Next time,” encouraged her friend.

Then, both women overheard Fusco telling his interpretation of what occurred. “So, then – I had to use some of my charm to get those Boston cops to back off …,” he told John. 

“Speaking of wanting to _shoot_ someone,” Shaw said out loud, causing the slightest smile to appear on Martine’s stoic face. 

“Later,” she said and Sameen gave her a salute-wave of two fingers.

* * *

The only thing that was slowing Fusco’s storytelling down was the intermittent bites of the donuts he brought with him. He didn’t see Sameen standing, arms crossed, behind him. But Reese did. 

“So, your finesse is really what saved this? Is that what you’re saying?” Reese asked, setting his friend up mercilessly. 

“Pretty much,” Fusco said, because in his mind – his two friends would have had a lot of trouble explaining to the local police what they were doing there. 

“ _Pretty much_ my ass!” Shaw barked on cue, slapping Fusco’s shoulder and scaring hm.

“I knew you was there!” he said, almost choking and accepting the glass of water Reese handed him.

“You knew jack!” Shaw countered and looked over the left over donuts. “Look at this selection,” she complained. She grabbed one and took a bite that was so big, Reese poured another glass of water – just in case. 

“Disizwhadhappuned,” she said to John, as he watched a large blob of jelly fall down her chin. He held the glass of water out, but she waved him off. 

For the next several minutes, John listened as Shaw told her version and Fusco countered with his. “Sounds like a great team effort,” Reese concluded and left before he had to witness any more. 

Shaw looked at Lionel with a quizzical look. “ _Team effort_?” she asked, as if it was a phrase she didn’t understand. 

“What’s with him?” Fusco echoed. “It was definitely more me.”

Sameen would have hit him a second time, but she was suddenly – and without warning – spun around into someone’s embrace. A very _tight_ embrace.

“I know you hate this, Shaw, and that’s not even why I’m doing it,” Zoe Morgan said as Fusco watched in amazement. The last person he ever expected to see embracing his tigress friend was Morgan. 

“You hit your head or something?” he just had to ask.

Zoe released Shaw who immediately backed up until she hit the table. “What the hell, Morgan?” she asked because she had surprised Sameen with that hug. “Just… what the hell?”

“I did hit my head, Detective,” Zoe said in a dreamy like voice that was dripping with bliss. “But we put a pillow there and it was fine,” she explained as her eyes cast upward remembering last night. “And I hate to admit it, Shaw, but I have you to thank.”

Sameen was used to her friends not making sense. She believed each one of them was suffering from an undiagnosed mental illness. “This is _exactly_ what your wife should be working on,” Shaw spat at Lionel, her hand outstretched at their visitor. 

“What did she do?” Lionel wanted to know. 

Before Shaw could protest her involvement in anything this woman was talking about, Zoe answered him. “Just saying those few words about her, gave for a very interesting evening, I can tell you that,” told Zoe.

“Oh, yeah?” Lionel said over Shaw’s insistence that neither of them had any interest in what she was saying. “What words?”

“From the video,” Zoe started as she looked over the box of donuts even though she would never eat one. “About Janine…”

Now both Fusco and Shaw stared at her. “Must have been a worse hit than she realized,” Sameen said out of the side of her mouth. 

“When you took down that woman? In Boston?” Zoe said, trying to help her friends. 

Seizing an opportunity to remind Lionel that she bore the lion’s share of the credit, Shaw turned and said – “Yes, I… took her down.”

“And I…,” Lionel added; “… made sure the cops didn’t take you down.”

Zoe was getting lost in the friends’ banter. “No, I mean, sure, but the video that went viral…?”

“What video?” they both asked.

“Someone was recording your heroic efforts there, Shaw,” the Fixer finally explained. 

“Nice!” Sameen said, puffing out her chest and accepting the credit. 

Lionel was thinking it may not be a good idea to have a record of that. “Hey, Maybelline,” he interrupted his friend’s moment in the sun. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You being someone other than who you said you was.” 

“Oh,” Shaw said, suddenly getting his point.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Zoe assured them catching onto their concern. “It was shot from the back. Even I couldn’t tell it was you.”

Both friends seemed relieved to hear that. 

“Did they catch me unarming that psycho?” Shaw wanted to know, picking out her next donut. 

“I wasn’t in it, was I?” Lionel asked, not sure how he’d explain that. 

“What? No, actually – they only caught you telling that woman what a bad administrative assistant she was …,” Zoe explained, letting her words hang there while Shaw figured it out.

Shaw was _not_ going to figure it out.

“They missed me disarming her?!!” she asked in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“And I was not in it, right?” Lionel wanted to make sure.

“No, guys; listen,” Zoe said, seeing how these two were totally off track now. “I see why you two are friends,” she said and should have kept that to herself.

“What?” they both asked.

“No, listen; whoever was filming this – must have been nervous because the video was shaky…”

“Chuck!” Shaw assessed correctly. 

“Well, Chuck or whoever - only posted the part where you were telling her what a bad admin she was because …,” Zoe said, waiting to make sure they were both listening for the punchline, “… you KNEW what a good administrative assistant WAS!” There was a – _voila! -_ tone to her voice as the two friends stared back with blank expressions. She gave it another few seconds before blurting out: “Oh, for God’s sake, Shaw! You complimented Janine. Janine saw that video. Like a thousand times, actually. But anyway, let’s just say – it put her in a very very good mood.” 

Zoe thought she had done above and beyond in thanking Shaw for her part in what turned out to be one of the hottest nights of her life. Sameen sort of missed that.

“What do you mean she saw it? How …?” Shaw demanded to know. 

“Someone reposted it I guess,” the Fixer shrugged her shoulders. 

“And he didn’t catch the part where I disarmed her? What the hell, Chuck?” Shaw complained.

“I was definitely _not_ in it though, right?” the detective repeated. 

“Were you two separated at birth or something?” Zoe asked, searching her phone for the video. Before either could attack her for that comment, she pushed her phone in their faces and played the clip. 

Shaw watched as she uttered those words, disappointed that her keenness at handling the situation was not caught on tape. Fusco was relieved to see he was nowhere in sight. 

“So, I just wanted to say _thanks_ ,” Zoe summed up the longest five minutes of her life so far. 

“How do you miss the best part?” Shaw asked, wondering if it was worth a call to Chuck to point out his video skills sucked. 

“I don’t think you’d want that viral, Maybelline. Given you were incognito and all,” Fusco tried to comfort his friend. 

“It happened so fast, she didn’t even know what hit her,” Shaw reminisced. 

“That’s _exactly_ what I thought,” Zoe concurred, but was thinking about how she felt when Janine surprised her last night with the ultimate ride of her life. 


End file.
